


Things Invisible To See

by jolybird



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Confusing family trees, F/F, F/M, Grantaire Cosette and Eponine are siblings, Howl's Moving Castle AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, half the characters are related by the end, minor combeferre/eponine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7069642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolybird/pseuds/jolybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When men come looking for his father, Grantaire is forced to leave his family behind and head for safety. Almost immediately he finds himself inside the Moving Castle which belongs to a truly terrible collection of witches and wizards that stalk the countryside. With war raging around him, Grantaire must figure out how to protect his family from the past, the monarchy, and themselves. Which, come to find out, is pretty much impossible seeing as no one is who they say they are and he has no idea what's actually going on.</p>
<p>Howl's Moving Castle AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Invisible To See

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2016's [Les Mis Big Bang](http://lesmis-bigbang.tumblr.com/). Huge thank you to defractum for hosting and so much love to my favorite person in the world [storiofmylife](http://archiveofourown.org/users/storiofmylife/works/) for betaing even though she had to consult a powerpoint to get the character's straight ♥♥♥ any errors you find are mine because I kept going through and nitpicking everything. 
> 
> Everyone should go check out the art [coldcigarettes](http://coldcigarettes.tumblr.com/) made for this fic _right now_ [here](http://coldcigarettes.tumblr.com/post/145327108181/art-for-lesmis-bigbang-for-the-fic-things) because he's immensely talented and the art is a m a z i n g. 
> 
> This fic was orginally going to be pretty tame but it kept grow and growing and growing until it turned into this monster that's probably more Howl's Moving Castle AU-ish than straight up AU. (Formatting with breaks might be a little weird but I'm tired of fighting with it so please ignore them ♥)

* * *

 

 

_In the land of Ingary, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fall first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes. –_ Diana Wynne Jones, Howl’s Moving Castle

 

* * *

  


“Hey, Grantaire--another. And maybe this time don’t put so much of your sour mood into it.”

As Grantaire glanced up sharply, Montparnasse leaned on the bar, jacket an offensive purple and face all dangerous angles. He didn’t know where Montparnasse came from or when he was planning on leaving, but he had been a staple at the tavern for the better part of two months now. He showed up at all hours of the day with asinine comments like “I don’t care what it tastes like but mix me something that’ll make me irresistible” or “a double shot of luck today.” Like he was a wizard dealing potions. Éponine had the talent for magic, not him. Grantaire always overcharged him. At first, his father frowned at the habit, but eventually, when Montparnasse showed up one too many times as they were opening wearing too much eye make up, gaudy clothes and intrusive perfume, he started to turn a blind eye.

Despite his _sour mood_ , there was nowhere else in the world Grantaire would rather be. His father had bought the tavern when he was young and for a few years it had been just the pair of them. It had been nice. One of his first memories of Ultime was painting the attached house, both of them covered in green paint, laughing for the first time. It had been when Ultime, who was by birth actually his uncle and not his father, became his adopted father. Then one day they went on a trip and came back with two younger sisters. Grantaire immediately adored both of them: finally he had someone to play with because, as much as he loved Ultime, he was terrible at make believe—he never got the evil stepmother’s voice right.  Cosette was quiet and small enough to sneak into the pantry to steal sweets. Éponine was funny and had magic which opened a whole new world for all three of them. She could enchant pillows to hold their appearance so they could sneak out and play past bedtime and could mend every vase they shattered.

Growing up, the three spent long hours in the sun lit courtyard between the house and tavern reading and playing pretend. Cosette, being the youngest, had her sights set on fame and adventure. Éponine planned her path to a crown. She couldn’t remember them, but she had left a brother and sister behind when their father adopted her and Cosette. Her sister’s name was Azelma and that’s all she had of her. If she was royal, she’d have the power to find them. Their father watched them all fondly as fourteen year old Grantaire ignored the neighborhood children to read with ten year old Éponine and nine year old Costte.

Both of the girls had recently been apprenticed out of the house (in fact, Montparnasse showed up mere days after they left). Éponine had gone to Lamarque’s to study magic in Upper Folding and Cosette to Isabeau’s Bakery in Kingsbury. Grantaire hadn’t seen either of them for months now seeing as they were both so far away. Their apprenticeships had left him alone with his father, but he was okay with that. He was the eldest of three and therefore totally fucked if he wanted to go seek some grand destiny. The universe was against him and he was never one to fight the inevitable. He knew perfectly well the fate that awaited him if he ever went looking for fame and fortune. Thank you very much, but no.

He was all set to work in the tavern for the rest of his life, it was sometimes boring, but there were always interesting people around--for example, Montparnasse, who was watching him prepare his drink closely--and they were well out of reach of the war.

Ultime, who previously had been drying a glass next to him, froze and Grantaire looked up to see Cosette standing in the doorway. The sunlight made her hair glow and she looked around the room, equal parts hesitant and, strangely, ready for a fight. Their father all but jumped over the bar to get to her and hastily pulled her out back to the courtyard.

Grantaire glanced to Montparnasse, who simply raised his eyebrows, and then slid the drink over. The whiskey spilled over the rim but he caught it and saluted him sarcastically. Grantaire couldn't quite find it in him to care as he abandoned the bar to hurry   out after his father and sister.

“Papa, there has been talk between the officers lately, I've heard your name mentioned several times.” She was saying as Grantaire walked into the late afternoon sunlight.  

The concern on his face turned to shock and then panic as he turned to Grantaire, “Pack your things.”

Frozen at the abrupt order, Grantaire just gawked, “What? Where are we going?”

“ _We’re_ going nowhere. Cosette and Éponine are safe where they are. You’ve got to go. Away from me. They can’t be able to trace you to me.”

“What do you mean?” Cosette’s voice was rough and sharp and Grantaire nodded in agreement. What the fuck was he talking about?

“Cosette. Thank you my dove, now get back to the bakery before it gets dark.”

“No! What do you mean? Why are they searching for you?”

“It’s not important. The important thing is that you are safe. R, _go_.”

“Why are they looking for you?” Cosette pressed on, not budging under his firm gaze.

“Don’t make me tell you again. Get out of here!”

Grantaire knew not to fuck around with Ultime when he used that voice and so he didn’t do anything but glare after him as Ultime ran a hand over his face and headed back out front.

Cosette followed Grantaire up to his room and helped him throw his things into his bag. She held herself strange, a little stiff, slightly hesitant. Every once in awhile she’d flinch and then twist her hair around her finger, a sign she was nervous. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be fine, but why start lying to her now? She used to get so angry when he’d tell her birth order determined how successful you would be in life.

After several long moments, she finally spoke, “Where do you think you’re going to go?”

Grantaire shrugged as he stuffed a book into his bag, it had been their favorite growing up. “I’ll find work on a farm or something. Maybe I’ll travel around a bit.”

Instead of the jealous look he was expecting, Cosette just bit her lip and searched his face. “Be safe, please. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“And write me okay? And stay away from the Moving Castle! You know what they say about the wizards that live there.”

“They only eat the hearts of attractive people. I’m totally fucking safe.”

“Stay the _fuck_ away, Grantaire.” She snapped and then straightened her back and clasped her hands in front of her, “If I don’t hear from you at least every two days I’m going to come after you.”

“I’ll be fine.” He assured her as he shut the bag and glanced around the room.

“Have everything?”

“Think so. Do you think I’ll be back? If there’s someone after Ultime...”

“You know how overprotective he is. I’m sure he’s just being overdramatic.” But Cosette didn’t meet his eye as the pair of them went back downstairs.

Their father intercepted him before they could go out front, “Here,” he said, pushing some money into Grantaire's hand. “Don’t come back until I come to get you.”

“Where am I going?”

“Anywhere. Don’t tell me. If things get bad, I can’t know.”

Cosette’s fingers dug into Grantaire’s arm, “What do you mean _if things get bad you can’t know_. Are you planning on being tortured for his whereabouts? Papa--what the hell?”

“Cosette, my love. You’re protected where you are and Éponine is as well. I need you to go back to the bakery. Immediately. Grantaire--”

“No. Absolutely not.” Cosette raised her chin and looked almost eerily like Éponine.

“Why did you come all the way here, love, when you heard them talking about me?”

“I was worried--it sounded like you were in danger.” Cosette gasped, her grip on Grantaire's arm was going to leave marks.

“There’s much I didn’t tell you and if they’re looking for me here--”

“They’re in Kingsbury. It’s miles away!”

“Yes. Hopefully they pass by. Hopefully they don’t come here. But just in case. Grantaire, find a place to lay low for a couple days. Stay in contact with your sisters, if I find someplace safe for you to go or if it’s safe for you to come back home, I’ll send word through them.”

“I don’t like this. There’s so much you don’t tell us and if you just would--”

“Cosette.” He said in warning and she quieted. “Be careful.” He hugged both of them and then all but pushed them away.

Cosette took him by the arm and briskly led him down the street. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears of frustration.

“Hey--” Grantaire began but Cosette glared with an intensity usually only Éponine was capable of and he shut his mouth.

“Do you want to come to Kingsbury with me?” She asked, voice tight, as if she already knew his answer.

“I should stay close by. Just in case.”

She nodded, and then shook her head as she tried to get control of herself. “I expect to hear from you every other day at least. We’re all adults. He shouldn’t be treating us like children. The secrets he’s keeping are putting all of us in danger and there’s nothing we can do to help because we don’t know what the problems are.”

“I’ll figure it out. I’ll write.” Grantaire promised because he hated to see her cry.

“You better.”

He held his sister tightly. “Be safe, okay? You have a way back to Kingsbury?”

For a moment Cosette looked like she wanted to say something more but then she nodded and hugged him once more. “You too. I have a carriage waiting for me.”

 

* * *

 

He honestly had every inclination to head straight to a farm to beg for a spot in a barn and a job. However, seeing that he was the eldest of three and therefore predetermined to fail, that didn’t happen. The Moving Castle hadn’t been sighted near the city for the past two weeks but, of course, as he set off down the path, what came storming over the horizon? The damn castle.

Grantaire turned around and proceeded to take the scenic route. He didn't believe the wizard who owned the castle ate hearts but with the king actively trying to recruit them for his army, he wasn't going anywhere near it. The last thing he needed was to accidentally bump into the guard as they were chasing someone else.

Without warning, not two minutes later, something struck his shins and he went flying forwards. His hands hit the path and his head smashed against his forearms. “Fuck.” He groaned, gingerly pushing himself up. First the castle, now literally eating dirt, he really wished he had another sibling.

He looked around to see what tripped him as he wiped the dirt off his face with the back of his hand. Sticking out from a bush was a stick; maybe a broom handle or an abandoned walking stick.

He pushed himself up to his knees, grabbed the stick and pulled at it. It came free easily but the stick apparently had a mind of it’s own—literally. It yanked itself out of his hands and bounced up revealing the ugliest scarecrow he’d ever seen. He scrambled to his feet, his bag bouncing hard on his back.

“Who the hell are you-” he gasped and then felt stupid, it was a scarecrow--an enchanted object--emphasis on object.

Grantaire put his hands up and cautiously took a step away. The scarecrow didn’t move. He took another step, this time to the side and the scarecrow didn’t move. He continued edging his way around the scarecrow so he could continue down the path and all the scarecrow did was slowly turn to watch him.

Which, by the way, was unnerving as fuck.

When he was on the other side of the scarecrow, his path to safety once again clear, Grantaire kept eye contact (as much as one can keep eye contact with a scarecrow) and turned around and briskly walked away.

The only sounds he could hear were that of his boots on the gravel path, something jingling in his pack, and a few crickets.

And then there was a thump...followed quickly by another...and then another.

Grantaire spun around to see the scarecrow slowly hopping after him. “Oh no.” Throwing his hands out in front of him, Grantaire shook his head sharply, “Oh no, you are not fucking around with me today.”

The scarecrow stilled as if it could understand him, but then as Grantaire took a step back, it hopped forward an inch, as if it were testing him.  Grantaire looked around, trying to see if there was a wizard or witch hiding somewhere in the hills, playing tricks on him. No one. But the sun was starting to get dangerously low on the horizon and already the sky was taking on a pink hue.  Another step back prompted another small jump from the scarecrow and Grantaire just sighed,  “Well all right, you can hop along with me if you’d like, turnip head.” Immediately, the scarecrow hopped until it stood next to Grantaire. Great, just great, add an animated scarecrow to the list of shit he had to deal with today, why not. The scarecrow kept next to him as the sky got darker and they walked farther and farther away from the only home Grantaire had ever known.

When he was younger, before his father came into the picture, he lived with his mother but he couldn’t remember her. According to Ultime, she had been kind and beautiful and the house they had lived in was cozy and had a garden with flowers that bloomed year round. It had painted a nice picture when he was younger and plagued with nightmares.

The only things he could remember were one of his younger sisters laughing and then men blowing in their front door, screams, flames. He remembered silence and crying--his cries echoing off empty walls. He remembered stealing food, hiding under the charred remains of a table. He remembered Ultime’s boots and being held. The rest was Market Chipping.

Now night was falling around them and Market Chipping was gone. So, really, the world should just cut him some slack right now.

It was at that time that he realized that he had somehow picked the path that missed every farm outside Market Chipping and he was now in the wastes. He was in the wastes. It was dark. It honestly was probably past midnight if the way his feet ached were any inclination. Thank you, world, for leading him down the right combination of paths that led him to spending the night in the Waste.

Grantaire was in a bad mood. The scarecrow hit him and Grantaire just shouldered it away sharply. It teetered away from him as Grantaire squinted out into the distance. The only saving grace of the night was a full moon so he could see the empty hills and fields stretched out in front of him.

The scarecrow hit him again and Grantaire turned in frustration. “What?” he hissed and the scarecrow leaned out of the way to reveal soldiers on the horizon. The wind shifted and he could suddenly hear shouting. The scarecrow hit him with its long wooden arm and Grantaire stumbled away.

What were the chances he’d stumble upon soldiers all the way out here? The wind shifted again and suddenly he could hear a mechanical clicking, the sound of metal gears turning, metal clanking together--Grantaire glanced to his right.

The Moving Castle.

This whole eldest of three thing was not fucking around tonight.

“Fauchelevent stop!”

The scarecrow hit him, urging him along. How the soldiers knew who he was was beyond him. There wasn’t a reason for a wanted poster: up until a few hours ago, he was perfectly accessible at home.

Unless Cosette had been followed.

Unless they had found out he had been headed in this direction and they had followed after him.  

He was in trouble. His sisters were in trouble.

The scarecrow hit him painfully hard and he sped up, he couldn’t do anything to help them, not with the soldiers gaining on him. Grantaire did the only thing he could do, run. More specifically, he ran towards the castle.His bag bounced against this back, his legs felt like jelly and his feet burned but he couldn’t stop.

The backdoor opened and a figure appeared on the landing. He had short red hair and tan skin, his eyes were the kind of amber that glowed and Grantaire almost stopped. A fire demon. Of course. What else would live in an enchanted castle? A fire demon that somehow inhabited a human body, sounded about right.

However between a fire demon and the King’s Guard? Fire demon any day.

The demon reached out to Grantaire as he got closer and he grabbed his hand, ignoring the sharp burst of pain that erupted. The demon pulled him onto the tiny landing before dropping his hand quickly. “What’d did you do to them?” The demon’s voice was more amused than not.

Grantaire looked down at his singed hand, clenching and unclenching it a few times. It wasn’t terribly burnt, more annoying than painful. He looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Would you believe me if I said nothing?”

“Not really but I won’t push you for details you don’t want to share.” The demon turned, ignoring the shouts of the guards who still chased after the castle, but were getting farther away. The castle was moving faster than it had been a second ago which meant the castle had slowed down for him. The demon walked back inside, leaving Grantaire to follow. Grantaire glanced behind him to watch the guards fade farther away and then quickly ducked into the house in case they finally decided to shoot.

“Do you want something to drink?” The demon asked, walking up the stairs to what looked like a small living area.

His father and sisters raced through his mind. Had Cosette been captured? Was she okay?

“Hey--” the fire demon said, holding his hands out, “Calm down. You’re safe.”

“My family.” Grantaire said and then stopped. He could have just run into a bigger problem. The Moving Castle haunted the residents of Folding Valley. Before Cosette left she had teased Grantaire and Éponine about how she was escaping the Castle. For the residents of Folding Valley, their biggest fear wasn't the war, it was the Wizards who lived here.

“Your family’s in danger?” The demon asked and genuinely looked concerned.

Grantaire sort of shrugged.

“I can do a location spell if you want?”

He shrugged again, he didn’t want to paint targets on their back if the demon was looking for its next victim.

“It’s no strings attached, you don’t owe me anything and the spell will only show them, not give directions to them.”

“You won’t be able to trace them?” He didn't like that he instantly knew what was making him uncomfortable, but this was something he couldn't really pass up.

“No. This spell will just show them for a moment.”

He didn’t exactly _believe_ him, but the current dangers outweighed any possible future ones, “Okay.”

The demon nodded and then led him over to the fire, “Put your hand above the flames.”

Grantaire did, half convinced he was selling his soul, but the demon only recited a spell and told him to concentrate on the others.

At first, he thought his eyes were seeing things but then he could see Ultime in the flames. He stood behind the bar washing a dish with his eyes on the door. As the flames flickered, he was replaced by Cosette, yawning and pushing open the door to the apartment she shared with some of the girls from the bakery. Finally, Éponine was laying in bed, making stars dance above her.

“She’s talented.” The demon said and Grantaire raised an eyebrow as the image of his sister vanished. The redhead laughed, “Don’t look at me like that. Not all the rumours are true. We don’t eat hearts for one.”

“Saying that makes it sound like it’s wrong only on a technicality, like you eat livers or you use hearts in potions.”

The demon rolled his eyes, “My name’s Feuilly, by the way.”

“R.”

“You’re cursed.” He said in the same conversational tone as his name.

“Yeah, I’m the oldest of three. As you just saw.”

Feuilly frowned but started to walk towards the stairs, “You can sleep over here for tonight. We’ll talk more in the morning.” He indicated a wide bench positioned between a table and the wall. It was covered in blankets and pillows as if they frequently took in guests who slept at their dining table.

“Um—“ Grantaire began, looking at the demon uneasily, “You’re just—you trust me to just sleep here until morning?”

“Look.” The demon began patiently, paused halfway up the stairs, “If you try anything I’m not even going to bother getting out of bed. Not because I don’t care but because you’ll be dead before I make it out of my room.”

“Uh—“

“If you keep to yourself and don’t do anything stupid, you’re perfectly safe. I didn’t save you just to have you killed.”

And with that, he left him alone.

Grantaire sat at the table and pulled a pillow onto his lap. It was embroidered with beads in an uneven pattern and he ran his fingers along the stitching.

After maybe an hour of him just sitting there, getting used to the way he could feel the castle move beneath him and yet _not_ move at the same time, he noticed a woman standing on the steps, watching him with a guarded expression. He flinched away, stupidly putting the pillow down at his side and she lifted her hands to show she meant no harm. Silently, she made her way down the steps.

“Are you alright? I thought I heard Feuilly talking to someone but it didn’t really occur to me that someone might be down here until I woke up again.”

“Sorry.” Grantaire told her immediately. He couldn’t get the whispers out of his head, the whispers of kids from when he was in school, the way his father warned him to stay away from the castle. He hadn't believed it, of course he hadn’t--it was a fairytale but...a fire demon pulled him inside and now this woman was looking him over as she slowly made her way over towards him. After the day he had, could you blame him for giving in to hysterics?

“No. Don’t apologize. Are you alright? I’m guessing we got you from the waste? Feuilly’s window looks out over them and I’m guessing he heard you in trouble?” She stopped a few feet from him, pulling her sweater around her tighter, “He hasn’t really gotten much sleep the past couple of nights so if he was curt with you, I’m sorry.” She looked at him sitting at the table and asked, “Um—did he _just leave you down here_?”

“He said I could sleep here for the night?”

She sighed, arms crossed over her chest.  “Okay so this entire room has approximately a hundred protection spells on it. You cannot physically go up the stairs, you cannot physically steal anything. You can leave if you want. But I’m guessing you don’t.”

“The guard was after me.”

She raised a single eyebrow, somehow simultaneously impressed and wary. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know. They’re after me because of someone else.”

“My name’s Combeferre and I’m sorry again about Feuilly just leaving you down here to fend for yourself. You’ve come at a bad time, honestly, if it were a normal day, we could help you right now and send you on your way. But as it is, it’ll have to wait until morning.” She went to a workbench on the opposite side of the room, she pushed up her glasses and messed with something on the desk Grantaire couldn’t see.

“You and the fire demon are going to help me?”

She shrugged, like that wasn’t quite it, but she wasn’t about to give out more information than necessary. He didn’t like it.

“Drink this.” She said, turning away from the workbench, a pitcher in one hand and a glass in the other. She poured a drink and the put the pitcher back down and walked across the room to hand it to him.

“Do you promise you’re not going to paralyze me and eat my heart out?”

Combeferre paused, glass still outstretched. “It’s water.”

Grantaire went to make another joke, but Combeferre looked like she was absolutely not in the mood. Please just let her be tired; if she was always this angry she was going to be roasting his heart on a spit over the fire before daybreak. He took the glass of water and tried to smile as gently as he could in an attempt to convey his gratitude that she hadn’t done so yet. Her expression didn't change.

“Well. If you need anything, don’t come upstairs. Open the front door and ring the bell.”

“Wow.” Grantaire whispered because he was starting to think these guys never had guests. She raised her eyebrow again but then turned and went back up the stairs.

“Just remember if you try to come upstairs or steal anything, death is going to be the least of your problems.”

He felt his eyes go wide and briefly wondered if running towards the castle had been the best idea. “Yeah. I got it.” She nodded and then trudged back up the stairs.

Grantaire stared at her retreating form and then took a sip of the water. First the fire demon abandoned him down here so he could go back to bed and now this woman was doing the same. Was he supposed to just...hang out until morning? After being forced out of his home and chased through the Wastes into the Moving Castle, sleep was the last thing on his mind. He quickly downed the rest of the water and it was only after he swallowed the last of it that he noticed the weird aftertaste. Camomile?

No wait--

Grantaire felt himself go drowsy and a few seconds later he found he couldn't keep his eyes opened. He slumped sideways against the cushions and goddamn it.

Of course the witch of the Moving Castle would give him a sleeping potion. What else did he expect?

 

* * *

 

Grantaire was woken in the morning by a loud voice asking, “And who’s responsible for _this_?”

“Shh, Enjolras, you’ll wake him!” Another voice whispered. _Yeah, Enjolras_ , Grantaire thought bitterly, memories of the day before already bombarding him, making going back to sleep impossible. He pushed himself up and hands were instantly on him. “Are you alright?” the same voice continued.

“’m fine.” He grumbled to see the second voice belonged to a petite woman, hair pulled back into a ponytail, her lips twitched in a smile. She knelt on the ground next to him, looking him over despite Grantaire’s assurance he was okay.

Footsteps sounded on the steps and then Feuilly spoke. “I hope you didn’t wake Grantaire up.”

“You’re responsible for the stowaway?” Enjolras asked, voice softening slightly and Grantaire took advantage of his distraction to check him out. He was tall, at least from Grantaire’s current perspective, with curly blond hair. He held himself in a way Grantaire wanted to describe as royal but seeing as it was common knowledge they were actively avoiding every summons the King sent, it probably wouldn't be received well.

“The guard was after him.” Feuilly shrugged as if that was all he needed to say.

Enjolras’ whole countenance changed with a silent _well why didn’t you say so in the first place_. “What are they persecuting you for?”

Grantaire immediately pretended he hadn't been looking at him and the woman at his side snorted as she got up. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything. Fuck.”

“What happened?”

Grantaire sighed, looking at the three evenly before he decided, _fuck it_ \--the soldiers had known his name, they had known where he was--his family needed help. “Someone told us that there were soldiers looking for my father and so he told me to run and I was going to look for work at a farm or something and lay low. Only, the soldiers found me.”

“Why were they looking for your father?”

“I don’t fucking know. I knew there was something he wasn’t telling us but it just—it was never important. We all have things we don’t want to talk about.”

“You can stay here as long as necessary. We’ll give you a room and you can help Jehan with the flower shop and Bahorel with the bakery. You said you worked at a tavern, right?” Feuilly said.

“I—“ was all he managed to say, a room and job just because the Guard had chased him to their doorstep?

“It’s alright. We’re not going to turn you back out into the waste with nowhere to go. My name’s Joly by the way.” The woman smiled kindly and Enjolras crossed his arms and shrugged.

“We could drop him off in Strangia or the Sultanates of Rashpuht.”

Joly laughed quietly, “Enjolras no. What would he do there? Starve on the streets? Courfeyrac and Bahorel could use the help.”

Grantaire didn’t know what they meant by _drop him off_ , sure the castle moved, but it didn’t have the ability to travel to different countries on a whim--it stayed pretty much solely in Folding Valley. He didn’t know if he was about whatever kind of magical nonsense they were talking about. Enjolras stepped closer to him, “What are your feelings on the war?”

“I think I’m damn lucky I was born without an ounce of magical ability.” Grantaire didn’t know what the hell kind of question that was or what Enjolras was trying to gain from it.

Enjolras’ eyes, if possible, narrowed further, “What do you mean by that?”

“I’m not going out and dying for some fucking stupid King who can’t keep track of his own fucking stupid grandson.”

Enjolras watched him evenly for a moment and Grantaire silently started forming plans on how to stay the hell out of his way. “He can stay for now. And just barely.”

Grantaire just blinked in surprise, he hadn’t been aware that had been riding on the question but Feuilly carefully elbowed Enjolras out of the way, “Sorry about last night, I was completely exhausted and I guess you were too because you fell asleep.”

“Combeferre gave me a glass of water.”

“You…know Combeferre?” Feuilly paused with his mouth slightly open, thoroughly taken aback.

“I met her last night.”

“Oh good. I think she’s already gone out on an errand so we wouldn’t have been able to introduce you yet.”

“Hold up.” Joly said, a vaguely concerned look on her face and already she was his favorite, “Did Combeferre drug you?”

He shrugged, “A sleeping draught.”

“I wish I could say she’s not usually like that but...no, yeah, she’s totally pulled that on me before. In fact, she pulled it on me the day before yesterday. So don’t feel bad--” Joly began but was cut off by someone coming down the stairs.

“‘ras, do you really have to argue this early in the morning. Some of us like to sleep past seven.”

“Fuck, is it really that early.” Grantaire gasped as he watched two men come down the stairs, one was broad shouldered, with curly dark hair. He was immaculately dressed already despite his complaining. The man at his side was smaller than him with long messy amber hair that was piled up on the top of his head and he was dressed like he grabbed whatever he found on the floor.

Joly frowned in sympathy. “I can make up a bed for you. You must be exhausted still.”

“Courfeyrac, Jehan, this is Grantaire. He’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

The taller one smiled like he had just been told they were getting a puppy and the redhead waved, “Did you tell him that if he leaves his shit in the middle of the floor and I trip over it I’m going to kill him?”

“Um--” Grantaire glanced to Joly who laughed.

“Mon râleur, I said I was sorry.” The curly haired one said, his attention solely on the man at his side.

“Yeah, you’ve been sorry for ten years and you’ll continue to be sorry until we’re dead.” he turned towards Jehan but didn’t look at him, “I’m Jehan and the only thing I can see is the future--”

“But only when he touches you, and it’s only a flash and it’s not always the future you end up with, sometimes it changes.” Joly explained quickly in a quiet voice.

“--I just wanted to get that out of the way if you’re going to be staying with us for a while.”

“Can you really?” Grantaire asked.

“Yeah, I’ll prove it.”  

Jehan placed his hand on Grantaire's elbow and then he gasped. He turned towards Joly. “Joly, he knows where Bossuet is!”

Grantaire took a step away from Jehan and looked up to see Joly scrambling to her feet. “Who?”

“Where is she?” she gasped, her face suddenly pale.

“Who?”

“Bossuet!”

“I don’t know anyone named Bossuet.”

Unperturbed, Joly continue, “Lesgles.”

“No.”

“Laigle.”

“No.”

“Legle.”

“No. How many people are you asking about?”

“L’Aigle de Meaux.”

“Now you’re just fucking with me.”

“She’s half a foot taller than me, bald, green eyes, a mole on her left temple--” she continued listing a detailed physical description for the next few minutes with Jehan freaking out in the background until Grantaire gently put his hand over Joly’s and Courfeyrac stepped up next to Jehan, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know! It was blurry!” Jehan gasped, hands up in front of him.

“Woah okay, let’s sit down.”

“I don’t know what it means—why was it blurry—I--”

“Oh.” Courfeyrac looked to Grantaire like it was the most obvious thing, “You’re cursed.”

“Told you.” Feuilly mumbled.

“Yeah. I’m the eldest of three.”

“A proper curse. Not superstition.” Jehan snapped but Courfeyrac’s realization obviously calmed him down.”She’s out there.” Jehan whispered and Joly beamed, her eyes wide and happy. He had known this woman for maybe ten minutes but already her happiness meant something to him.

“Bossuet has been missing for...a while and then there was the attack on the castle and there were rumours of prisoners escaping.”

“We don’t know if she was even captured by the Guard in the first place but…”

Enjolras crossed his arms, ‘We don’t know anything about him--why are you all so quick to trust him?”

“The Guard was trying to capture him.” Feuilly protested.

Joly leaned so that she was slightly between Enjolras and Grantaire, “Yeah, Enjolras, you already said he could stay with us.”

“I said he could stay, not that we should let him in on our all secrets.”

“No one’s saying that.”

“You’re all getting pretty friendly.”

“Enjolras, it’s alright…” Courfeyrac began, and Grantaire couldn’t read his face.

Enjolras just glared at Grantaire, “There’s a reason for the rumours.” And then he stalked upstairs.

Grantaire liked him. He liked that he was so protective of his friends.

“Courfeyrac’s the reason for the rumours. He starts them all.” Feuilly said after a long, awkward moment. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes but didn’t protest.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.” Jehan told him sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I freaked you out.”

“Stay still. I want to try to figure out what your curse is.”

Five minutes later, Grantaire had four magic users peering and poking at him in various shades of seriousness.

 

* * *

 

With wide eyes, she watched as the potion in front of her foamed up pink and gray and smelling like sulfur and whiskey.

“Very good. It’s nearly perfect and on your first time too.” Lamarque deftly picked up the small pot and poured it into the vial. “It’s no wonder--look at who your parents are.”

Her blood ran cold at her words. She knew Ultime wasn’t her birth father so that meant--she tried to think back to what little she could remember of the Thénardiers but she couldn’t recall a single time they’d ever done magic. In fact, they had _sold their daughter_ , when she started showing signs of magic. Lamarque was old though, and she was still new--she must just be confusing her with someone else.

“Éponine, come along, dear. I want to gather a few more potions before I send you into town.”

Silently, she followed after her teacher. Either she didn’t pick up on her confusion or she wasn’t going to comment on it.

Once, Lamarque had a whole school of students; now the mansion and it’s twenty plus rooms was starting to get run down and it was only the two of them. She was both student and housekeeper for the woman and it was worth it because Lamarque was brilliant.

The king sent letters weekly asking for her help, which Lamarque instructed her to burn without opening. She heard rumours of the guard showing up to physically drag people into the King’s service, but either the King didn’t care enough about her or he was too afraid (personally, she thought it was the latter).

She watched as the woman pulled vials and bottles from her main work bench and put them into a bag and handed it over without much preamble. “On your way back, get something for dinner would you?”

She nodded, stopped only to grab her shawl, and then headed off towards town. It had been two weeks now since her sister wrote to her, saying that their brother had vanished into the Waste, and their father hadn’t written since, but...it was probably alright. She found an old spell in one of Lamarque’s dusty books and every time she did it, the spell said they were both safe. Grantaire was always pretty terrible at staying in contact. He was lazy and easily distracted by a pretty book, boy, or girl. So she wasn’t worried. Two weeks was nothing. It wasn’t any time at all.

The spell said they were safe.

Without really noticing, she entered the tiny town, turned a corner, and headed for the first house on her trip. She always delivered an ointment to the man who lived next to the butcher, but before she could take more than two steps, she collided with someone hurrying towards her.

Dazed for a moment on the ground, she came to her senses when he started picking himself up, “Oh--sorry--”

“No it was my fault. I--” his voice broke off and she glanced up to see him staring at her. He was tall and lanky, dressed in worn clothes with red hair and a whole constellation of freckles on his cheeks.

Self conscious, she ducked her head and scooped the bottle that fell from her bag back into it. “I’m sorry. I have to go deliver these.” She climbed to her feet and hurried down the street, ducking around the next corner. Rushing to the nearest shop window, she stared at her reflection, expecting to look terrible. But her reflection only stared perplexedly back at her: her dark brown hair had more highlights than it did yesterday but they didn’t stand out. Her eyes were a hazel, more blue than green or brown, but not weirdly so. Her skin was even and her teeth were all similarly sized. Why had the boy stared then? It was impossible he knew who she was.

Literally impossible. When she and her sister left for their apprenticeships, Lamarque had placed a spell on the pair of them. They were unrecognizable to anyone who only knew them in passing. No one from the tavern would be able to recognize them, no one from Market Chipping except for their father and brother.

It didn’t exactly mean much, neither one of them had friends they wanted to keep in touch with. It was kind of lonely, especially now that she lived alone with Lamarque. But the people in the village were starting to remember her and they were all nice people. She’d make a new start with new friends here, learning how to do magic and then someday soon, she’d be able to see the world.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire sat on the bottom of the stairs, his fingers drumming on his knee. He looked out at the room before him. It was starting to become familiar. The front door with it’s ordinate handle that allowed them to open the door to four different locations was set lower than the rest of the room, accessible only by a narrow staircase marred by burn and skid marks that refused to be lifted.Grantaire had watched Courfeyrac and Joly try to remove them on several occasions. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t spent an entire afternoon opening and shutting the door, taking a step out into Kingsbury, stepping back in, stepping out into Strangia and then repeating until the novelty wore off (it still hadn’t, Enjolras was so annoyed by it he was starting to be amused).

To the right, near the great round fireplace that served as their stove, oven and power source, was the work bench. The dark mahogany wood was built into the corner with too many shelves and drawers to count. The surface was covered in potion ingredients and spell books. On the other side of the fireplace, in between it and the stairs, was a bookshelf crammed with books and papers. Grantaire was half-positive it hid a secret room, maybe another workroom. Sometimes he got the feeling the one in this room was just for show and small things.

On the other side of the room was a writing desk with a typewriter. Jehan liked to sit in the sun and write away the mornings in the middle of everyone. He was teaching Grantaire to read braille when he got stuck. A small table sat against the wall behind the desk, cushions were thrown on the bench against the wall, the chairs on the other side didn’t even look like they were from the same centuries. The rest of the wall was taken up by an ornately carved cabinet

When company was over, the doors were kept tightly shut. Now, however, they were thrown open wide, revealing a hidden dining room that looked out over the sea and a walk in pantry that Courfeyrac liked to hide in when he was sulking.

It wasn’t the tavern, not by any means, but it was something that was becoming comfortably familiar by the day. The only problem was that he didn’t know where he fit in.

Currently, he was being passed around like a rowboat on the open sea. Somedays he awoke to a pounding on his door—Bahorel needing extra hands in the bakery. Others, a gentle shake on his shoulder, Combeferre wanting to go out into the waste to gather supplies and to teach him about what plants were useful. Most frequently though, he went with Jehan to pick flowers and help arrange them in the back room of the flower shop.

The shop was located in Ingary, in Kingsbury where Cosette was. He never stepped foot out front during business hours. He still had no idea how the guards had recognized him in the hills outside the city with just a pack on his back. Lamarque hadn’t placed the same spell on him as she did his sisters and so he didn’t want to risk Cosette’s safety by going to see her.

Footsteps sounded coming down the hall above him and then they half-skipped down the stairs. Without turning around, Grantaire leaned over to let Joly pass, pissed he recognized her by the way she came down the stairs. “You’re up early.” She told him lightly.

“It’s half noon.”

“…I’m up late. Brunch?” Without waiting for a response, she already knew Grantaire was always up for brunch, she took his hands and pulled him into the dining room.

The windows were open, letting a light sea breeze drift in along with the sound of seagulls, the market place and, faintly, waves. The fresh air distracted Joly from her search for brunch and she went over to the windows and shut her eyes. The light breeze blew her hair about, “Wanna look for Bossuet today?”

Bossuet. Joly and Musichetta’s (whom he’d still yet to meet) missing girlfriend. He felt like he knew the both of them already, Joly went on about them so much. Seeing as he was half in fucking love with this disjointed jumble of a girl, if she wanted to look for Bossuet, that’s what they were going to do.

Grantaire went into the pantry, “Of course. Where do you want to go?”

Joly tilted her head, “Enjolras, come with us?”

Grantaire spun around and sure enough, the blond was standing in the middle of the doorway, a glass potion bottle in his hand. He swore there was a secret room behind the bookshelf.

“You’re going to look for her?”

“Of course. What else can I do?”

Enjolras was quiet for a moment, probably listing all the things she could be doing but he just nodded. “I need to drop some things off but it’s by--you know where so--”

“By you know where, he mean’s Bossuet’s parents house I’m guessing.” Joly offered.

“Still don't’ trust me?” Grantaire asked.

“You still don’t trust us.”

“That’s because there’s a reason for the rumours.”

Joly dramatically rolled her eyes, “Holy shit you two, let’s just go. I’m sure we can get lunch from Faustine.”

“Bossuet’s mother.” Enjolras explained.

Grantaire threw his hands into the air, eyes wide, “What the hell are you trying to keep secret from me? I literally do not care what kind of shit you guys are doing. Look, I’m glad you’re refusing to sell your souls to the king’s war. If you’re planning on sneaking into his chambers and cutting his head off, I literally do not care. If one of you is the king’s missing grandson this war is being fought over, I do not--actually wait no I’d care if that was the case because you should just tell your goddamn grandfather that you’re fine and to stop getting people killed.”

Enjolras smirked, which caused Grantaire to throw his hands up again in exasperation and Joly just shook her head, “Let’s just go before we’re late for dinner.”

The front door opened and closed and then footsteps sounded on the stairs, they were light and careful--probably either Feuilly or Combeferre.

Joly’s eyes lit up and she suddenly looked so excited, Grantaire momentarily thought Bossuet had walked through the door. But Enjolras just smiled and Combeferre walked into view with a basket of pastries.

“Brunch!” Joly pulled Grantaire out of the pantry and over to Combeferre and Enjolras.

“We’re going to look for Bossuet.” Enjolras said as he ignored the way Joly was digging through the basket. She had elbowed Grantaire out of the way immediately even though she had dragged him over with her.

Combeferre nodded, tried to give Joly the basket and then rolled her eyes as she ignored her in favor of comparing pastries. “Grantaire, do you want me to check up on your family? You haven’t done so in days now.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Grantaire shrugged, “I’m sure they’re fine.”

Enjolras looked to him, his eyebrows raised, a smile on his lips, “You have me check in on them daily.”

“No--” Grantaire hissed but it was too late.

“Oh, so you have Enjolras do it for you?”

“Grantaire.” Joly said softly, ‘You don’t have to pretend you’re not terrified for them. I’ll teach you some spells, I do them for Bossuet every day.”

“What if I don’t want to?” He blurted out before he could stop himself and Enjolras snorted. He forced his face back into a blank expression a second later.

“You’re not going to be captured by the king for knowing a couple simple potions. Come on. We’ll be late for dinner.”

“You say as you stuff a raspberry brioche roll into your mouth.” Combeferre deadpanned.

Joly just laughed and dragged Grantaire away. Enjolras tossed a croissant that Grantaire only just caught as Joly pulled him down the stairs, twisted the dial to the Wastes and then pulled him from the castle. Grantaire scrambled to keep up as she skipped off the stairs and the pair nearly tumbled to the ground when he couldn’t get his landing right. The castle was moving and unlike apparently everyone else, Grantaire prefered for his ride to come to a complete stop before exiting.

 

* * *

 

Bossuet’s parents lived in a corner of Folding Valley that Grantaire previously thought was uninhabited. There was a small cluster of houses near the foot of the mountains and when they reached them they were greeted by a tall, dark skinned woman who all but grabbed Joly into her arms. From overtop her head, the woman looked at the three of them and sighed, her face heartbroken. Then Joly pulled away and the woman plasted on a smile.

After a brief chat in which they discerned that, no, she hadn’t seen or heard a hint of her daughter, the four headed out to search the surrounding countryside, half of which was literally the side of a mountain and Grantaire really wasn’t used to all the cardio.

“My theory is that if something’s happened to her, if she’s been spelled or cursed, her gut reaction would be to go home. But--” Joly threw her arms out and caught herself as she slipped on a rock, “--but if she’s cursed or in trouble, she wouldn’t go home. Do you know what the King’s doing to his sorcerers?”

“Killing them.” Grantaire had gathered that much from the half conversations the others had been having around him.

“But do you know how?” Enjolras asked quietly, causing Grantaire and Joly both to jump a little at his proximity. He had gone off with Combeferre but apparently they had split up.

“They’re killing them is all I know.”

“They're twisting their magic and using it to poison them. It makes them more powerful but…”

“Poison’s poison.” Grantaire finished for him and Joly immediately strode off away from them.

Enjolras sighed, “We haven’t found a single spell that works when it comes to finding Bossuet.”

“I kinda figured if you’re resorting to searching the woods around her parents’ place.”

Enjolras glanced in the direction and then back to Grantaire, he looked like he wanted to say more but just shook his head, “Don’t go far. I’m going to go talk to her.”

Grantaire watched until he disappeared from sight and then took to meandering around looking for anything, really. There was a cliff a little ways away and he went to the edge to see how far he could see. Almost immediately, the ground gave way beneath his feet and he tumbled down.

Grantaire blinked as he regained his senses and looked up to see how far he had fallen, the spot where the cliff had given way beneath him was very obvious and only about ten feet above his head. However the ten feet in between him and the spot was one long skid mark in the dirt and he had destroyed no less than seven plants on his way down. It was all together mildly impressive.

Gingerly, he stood and tested for any injuries. Nothing. He glanced back up, the ground was too unstable to climb back up here so he turned around and--

“Holy _fuck_ ” he screamed, the scarecrow that had led him to the castle was literally inches from his face, “What are you doing here? How are you here? What the--”

The scarecrow hopped in circles around him and Grantaire just sighed and accepted it. “Do you know how to get back up?”

As if in response, and, let’s be real, it probably was in response, the scarecrow gave a little bounce of acknowledgement started off through the trees.

Fairy godmothers didn’t usually come in the form of ugly ass scarecrows, but there was always a first time for everything and Grantaire wasn’t going to complain if the thing wanted to help. It was possible someone from the Castle had spelled it and that’s why it was always found sort of near the Castle.

Grantaire followed the thing through the trees, watching as it bounced from root to rock, slipped, twirled in the air to catch itself and then continue on nonplussed. The mountainside was quiet, birds chirped in the distance and something scurried along in the underbrush near them. He glanced up to the ridge above him, hoping that one of his friends would magically appear to save him from his own stupidity.

The scarecrow stopped, spun sixty degrees and then jumped in place to indicate that the hill had sloped into a slightly more forgiving incline complete with an exposed root system that he could use for handholds. He shrugged and then started to make his way back up. The first couple of steps were easy but then the climb started to become more and more vertical and it took roughly thirty seconds for him to regret attempting it.

“You know, now that I’m up here I’m sure there was an easier way to get back up.” Grantaire groaned, his grip on the exposed root the only thing keeping him from falling. He had about a foot to go but with no other handhold, it was going to be tough.

“Grantaire what are you doing? Did you fall? Did you hurt yourself?” Joly gasped and then Enjolras appeared above him, holding out his hand. With a deep breath, Grantaire reached up and grabbed hold. Enjolras pulled him up and he scrambled over the edge with a sigh.

“Who were you talking to?” Combeferre asked, half an amused smile on her face.

“A scarecrow. We keep meeting out here. Dunno where it went though.”

“Woah. I want to meet a scarecrow.” Joly peered over the edge of the cliff but nothing was moving.

“Hang out with me out here some more and you’ll probably get your chance. Although, bad things usually follow--”

As if taking the joke from his mouth and twisting it, the sky opened up and hell rained down on them. Joly screamed, spinning around towards the village. Enjolras grabbed her, tugging her back in the direction of the castle while Combeferre stood to cover them from the unseen attack.

“Is this the war?” Grantaire gasped as dirt was ripped from the ground and thrown into the air, pelting them all.

“Don’t be stupid--” Enjolras growled, wrestling with Joly, “Go--I have to--” He threw Joly at Grantaire and then the world exploded.

Someone threw up a shield, Enjolras’ eyes were narrowed in concentration. Combeferre was knocked to the ground but pushed herself up quickly. “Enjolras we have to get out of here--”

Three dark figures swooped close overhead. There was a loud, sharp scream and then the ground shook. One of the figures darted back over them, followed by several blasts of light. One of the beams hit the shadow, sending it crashing to the ground.

Bright blue and sparking, one of the others blasts headed straight towards Combeferre, and Grantaire didn’t think as he raced towards her and shoved her out of the way. She twisted, hand outstretched but the blast struck Grantaire in the side and then smashed into the ground, throwing bits of dirt and rocks into the air. Grantaire let out a breath that sounded like the world’s quietest scream and Joly pounced. She darted towards where the dark shadow had fallen and away from him.

Grantaire fell backwards into Enjolras and Combeferre’s arms. Their lips were moving but all he could hear was a high pitched ringing. After a moment or a lifetime, Joly reappeared, face pale. Grantaire tried to asked her if she was okay but something was squeezing his stomach, causing little black specks to dance around his already hazy vision. _Fuck—this wasn’t good_ , he thought to himself as he saw more than felt Enjolras and Combeferre lift him to his feet and support him between them. His abdomen erupted in fire and he passed out.

 

* * *

 

“Congratulations. I see you’ve found another fucking idiot.”

“He’s my fucking idiot—you don’t understand ‘chetta—he—“

With a lurch that ended up as a groan, Grantaire recognized Joly’s voice.

“Careful,” she said, “Don’t move. ‘Chetta’s here, she’ll take care of you. I’ll go get ‘ferre.”

Grantaire opened his eyes to see a woman staring down at him. Her bushy hair was pushed back with a thick headband and there were bags under her eyes. Even though she looked twenty shades of exhausted, when she cocked her eyebrow, it felt like she could see right through him.

‘Chetta, Joly had called her. _Musichetta_. The fabled girlfriend.

“She’s going to say ‘ferre and I saved your life but we only helped. She did most of it.” She frowned and brushed his hair away from his face. “You saved Combeferre’s life. If you hadn’t pushed her out of the way, it would have hit her head on and she’d be gone. The blast only grazed you and you nearly didn’t make it.”

There was a commotion in the doorway and Enjolras appeared next to Musichetta. “Are you okay? No don’t speak—save your strength.”

“Enjolras.” Joly hissed, elbowing him out of the way so she could squeeze in between him and her girlfriend.

“Is everyone alright?” Grantaire asked, glancing to the doorway. He didn’t recognize the room he was in. It was empty which was a stark contrast to the rest of the cluttered Castle. Maybe they were at Bossuet’s mother’s home?

“Yeah.” Enjolras spoke at once, earning a glare from Joly, “It was just a couple scouts chasing each other.”

“They were gone before we got you back on your feet.”

“The war’s in Folding Valley.” Grantaire said quietly and then the door burst open and Courfeyrac flung himself towards him.

Grantaire had about a second to brace himself before Courfeyrac kissed him right on the mouth. “That was for saving Combeferre and for not dying in the process.”

“I’m pretty happy about that too.” Grantaire said with a laugh, now that the door was open he could see into the hallway and--that was Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta’s door across the hall. They had covered it with a makeshift noticeboard that contained everything from _Bahorel stop adding raisins to everything_ to _BOSSUET COME THE FUCK BACK._ Grantaire had been sleeping on their loveseat; according to Joly, he snored. But, seeing as he had been sleeping in her room for the past several weeks there was one thing that he knew for certain: there was no room across the hall.

They were in a room that didn’t exist this morning.  

Combeferre, who must have walked in with Courfeyrac, sat on the bed next to him, looking more exhausted than the first night he met her.  “The answer to your question is that Feuilly and Courfeyrac added this room for you while we were out.”

“Huh.”

She laughed, a tired, breathy sound and Enjolras leaned forward, “Is it alright? You’ve been sleeping on Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta’s couch for weeks and--”

“No. Thank you. This means a lot.”

Enjolras smiled. Then frowned. Then blushed a little.

Grantaire went to open his mouth to question him but was interrupted by Bahorel crashing through the door. He was a mountain of a man, all upper body strength from growing up carrying heavy bags of flour and sugar, he had broken his nose once and it had healed weird, which, according to him, only added to his charm. Without preamble Bahorel threw himself onto the bed and wrapped Joly, Grantaire and Combeferre in a hug. Combeferre’s glasses dug into Grantaire’s cheek. “The blast that hit you is meant to kill on impact. The survival rate for even the slightest brush is _zero_.” He said and Grantaire got the feeling he was coming into the middle of the conversation.

“Until it met the combined stubbornness of Joly and Grantaire.” Courfeyrac’s voice couldn’t be more proud and Grantaire seriously hoped he hadn’t just set a bar for himself.

“What are they _doing_?” Joly gasped, arms crossed over her chest.

“Trying to win a war.” Everyone glanced at Musichetta when she spoke, her voice slightly haunted, and Grantaire realized he didn’t know what it was that she did. Everyone always spoke about how she was busy and how Joly would sometimes go meet her at her parent’s house in Kingsbury early in the morning or late at night. He never questioned it because he’d figured they’d tell him in time.  

“Was that us? Or...?”

Bahorel shrugged, “No idea. No one knows. It doesn’t make a difference though. Neither side’s right.”

 

* * *

 

She was reading in the sitting room when there was a knock on the door. She hopped up and went to answer it before Lamarque so much as looked up. If someone was knocking on the door it was either an emergency or someone had something for them and last time Madame Petit had dropped off a fig and raspberry tart that she was still dreaming about.

Or maybe, just maybe, it had been the boy from the village. She had bumped into him several times more, each time he looked increasingly busy. She liked him. He always went out of his way for her. Lately though, it was like he had vanished.

When she opened the door however, she was greeted by a tall blond man probably a little younger than her brother. He smiled charmingly, “Hi, I’m here to talk to Lamarque, I’m afraid it’s quite important.”

“Oh.” She was a little disappointed he hadn’t come to deliver tarts as she glanced over her shoulder to see Lamarque setting her book down with a tired sigh. “Ma’am?”

“Put the kettle on and then meet us in the study, dear. Heaven knows what kind of trouble has chased this boy to my door.”

He bristled, offended but there was a small smile on his face that was warm. The girl stepped aside and he gave her a tight smile as he went over to Lamarque. She watched the two of them interact, he gently took her elbow and led her down the hall. Lamarque was already discussing current events and he hung to her every word. A former student, then.

Quickly, as not to miss out in what they were discussing, she made tea and brought it to the other room.

“He’s cused himself?” Lamarque asked carefully.

“Yes. I don’t think he’s aware of it.” He glanced to her as she walked into the room almost guiltily, and so she just smiled and set the tea down between them. Immediately he began making a cup for their teacher.

“This is my newest prodigy, Éponine. She’s better than you were at her age.”

She blushed at her blunt words.

“Éponine?” He asked curiously.

She held out her hand and he shook it, “It's nice to met you, although I'd rather it be under different circumstances. I’m sorry about your friend.”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable but Lamarque drew their attention back to her.

“What kind of curse do you believe it is?”

“I think it’s a binding curse, I think he’s bound his magic away. He must have done it when he was a child but I don’t understand _how_ that’s possible.”

“If you want to understand how to break the curse, you have to understand the nature of it. Why it was cast, what went into it. That’s the only way you’re going to figure out how it’s possible.”

The man looked to her and she shrugged, “I remember reading about vague curses the other day, ones that were placed without specific intent.” They both turned to Lamarque who nodded, a small, proud smile on her lips.

“Yes, I believe that’s exactly where we should start, can you be a dear and get us that book? And the three on the shelf next to it, if you haven’t ruined my organization again.”

She got up and hid her sigh, it was going to be a long afternoon.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire stumbled downstairs, rubbing at his face. It was way too fucking early for this bullshit. He glanced into the room to see the fire was in embers, but there was something in the middle of the room. He stopped walking abruptly and in the blue early morning light, he blinked at the small figure standing in the middle of the room. It was a child. What the fuck was a kid doing in the castle? The child pouted something fierce at him, but any projection of anger was ruined by the way he kept blinking sleepily. He looked about three or four with golden curls, clutching a too-big white button down shirt around him. The sleeves flopped over the top of his hands and were lost in the folds of the material. “Uh. Who’re you?” Grantaire asked, still frozen in place.

The child only lifted his chin defiantly and continued to glare. “Did you kidnap me?”

“What?”

“Mama said that bad people might try to kidnap me. But it’s my friend’s birthday soon and he made me _promise_ not to miss it and he will _hunt you down_ if you make me miss it and we’ll beat you up and you’ll go to jail because that’s where bad people go.”  The child sucked in a breath, puffing up with self-righteous fury like a little tiny Enjolras. Grantaire just stared as his brain came screeching to a halt. Did Enjolras have a brother? Or—god forbid—a son? Or, maybe the more pressing question should be: Had Enjolras _actually_ kidnapped a three year old?

It had been several long days since the attack, Joly and Courfeyrac had helped him settle into his room and Enjolras had been strangely distant.

“Listen kid.” He found himself saying, “I have no idea why you’re here, but I didn’t kidnap you, alright?”

The pint-sized bundle of anger glared at him for a moment longer and then he lifted the shirt up enough so that his feet were no longer tangled in the white material and tore off towards the door. Grantaire glanced up to see that the dial was green, meaning that the door lead to the wastes. He only had time to remember that the castle was currently travelling full speed before he raced after the boy. Because the child had a head start, Grantaire only just caught him outside on the tiny porch, with the boy leaning precariously over the ground moving past them. He gasped at Grantaire as he hauled him back inside.

“Rule one. Do not race out the door while the castle is in motion.”

“You’re a wizard!” The child’s voice was high-pitched and his words fell from his lips in a rush.

“Not quite. I just live in their castle.”

But the blond boy just stared up at him with wide excited eyes. Grantaire looked away and headed back up the stairs. He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked around, “You hungry?”

“Yeah!” the child piped up, bounding up the stairs, seeming unconcerned with not knowing where he was anymore. “I’m starving! It’s like there’s a monster in my tummy trying to pop out and gobble me up!” He giggled and Grantaire glanced down at him, raising an eyebrow.  The boy just looked around the room expectantly and bounced on his heels a bit.

“Okay so our choices are…bread and cheese or…oh, well, bread and cheese.”

“I’ll have…bread and cheese.” He giggled again like he was the cleverest little shit he knew. The child climbed up into one of the chairs and waited for Grantaire to come over. Grantaire sat across from him, the boy swung his feet as Grantaire sliced the vaguely stale bread and cheese. Sometimes having a walk in pantry was a crime when no one remembered to keep it stocked. When he handed it to him, the boy immediately began stuffing his face with it like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“So, what’s your name?”

“I’m Prince Camille Philippe Maximilien of High Norland.” He practically chirped proudly. Grantaire froze again, the prince had been missing for over ten years, there’s no way this tiny child was the missing prince. Unless there was time-travel involved but even he knew how dangerous fucking around with the fabric of time was.

“Okay, Camille—” The boy scrunched his nose up in disgust and Grantaire sighed, “Philippe? What do you want me to call you?”

“Can you keep a secret, Mr. Wizard? Sometimes when I don’t want to be a prince, like when I’m playing with my friends or when Papa makes we wear that itchy blue shirt—my friends call me the name Mama had before she became Queen.” He giggled like it was something extremely devious and Grantaire found himself smiling in bewilderment. “Do you want to be friends?”

“I—uh—sure?”

He nodded like he expected nothing less. “Ok then you can call me Enjolras.”

Grantaire’s eyes went wide and he pressed his lips together as he forced a smile on his face. “Well then, _Enjolras_ , you can call me R.”

The child—Enjolras?—tested the name out and then giggled. “Arghhh” he repeated scrunching his nose and doing what was probably in his little world an impression of a pirate; to Grantaire he looked a little like an offended puppy. He jumped down from his chair and started looking around the room. Okay so, yeah, actually, the missing prince _would_ be around Enjolras’ age. But…this child was four years old at best—even if he had an advanced vocabulary. He must just be some obscure relative of Enjolras, a cousin or something with a big imagination. The boy was poking around on the bookshelf, “It’s Coofs birthday soon and Jehan and I are going to get him something really cool.”

Well alright, there went _that_ piece of logic.

The world stopped spinning. There was no way to argue that. The child (Prince? Enjolras?) climbed onto his lap and put his hands on either side of his face. “Listen to the cool thing Jehan and I are getting Coof.”

“What the shit.” Courfeyrac asked as he reached the bottom of the stairs and both Enjolras and Grantaire flinched. Enjolras hopped to the ground, ready to fight in the oversized shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Jehan asked, standing a couple inches behind him.

“Grantaire’s down here with a baby.”

“I’m not a baby I’m three years old!” came the protest.

“Grantaire, why do you have a three year old?” Jehan asked cautiously.

“He looks like—“ Courfeyrac began, some of the color draining from his face.

“He doesn’t know how he got here and neither do I.” Grantaire cut in sharply.

“What’s your name, little one?”

“I’m Prince Camille Philippe Maximilien of High Norland!”

Jehan gasped and Courfeyrac made a strangled sound before he turned and raced back up the stairs. _Fantastic. Wake everyone the fuck up._ Grantaire didn’t know if he wanted Enjolras to come down the stairs or not. What if there were two of him? Jehan stood motionless at the bottom of the stairs and Grantaire, for lack of anything better to do, walked over to him, offering him his arm, which he took. Grantaire led him over to the table where Jehan sat down into one of the chairs dramatically.

“This is my friend—“

“Tyolet.”

Grantaire glanced to Jehan and how ready with the fake name he was. “Yeah…This is my friend Tyolet.”

Enjolras climbed down from his chair and walked over to Jehan, placing his hands on his knees. “How did you get blind?”

Jehan pat one of his little hands. “It was an accident, a spell gone wrong.” Grantaire didn’t know what had happened to cause Jehan’s blindness, but he didn’t like the sad look on Jehan’s face or the way he was patting the child’s hand.

“Are you a wizard?”

“No, I’m a Seer.”

Enjolras gasped and grabbed hold of one of Jehan’s hands. “That’s so cool! My friend Coof told me once that a Seer told him he was going to become the richest boy in High Norland and he was going to have six girlfriends!” Jehan chuckled and Enjolras glanced to Grantaire before he added, “I think he was lying though. I don’t think he ever saw a Seer because you should never be the richest person because poor people need money more. And having six girlfriends is a lot, you know. You have to buy them presents and flowers and dresses and everything. I think it’s just a lot. So I think he’s lying.”

“You’re very smart, Camille.” Jehan almost cooed.

“Yeah and my best friend ‘ferre hit him because she thinks Coof was lying too!” Jehan gasped and then laughed. “Well Coof’s my best friend too. And my friend Jehan! He has the same color hair as you do! His is short though. His Mama doesn’t let him have it long, she says he gets worms in it when he plays in the mud. But I think Coof put the worms in his hair. Coof’s silly. Jehan once punched Coof right in the face one time because—“ Enjolras trailed off as Courfeyrac came bounding back down the stairs with what looked like everyone else right behind him. Enjolras let go of Jehan’s hand and ran behind Grantaire’s legs.

“Don’t frighten him!” Jehan snapped.

“He wasn’t upstairs.” Courfeyrac gasped.

“Oh my god look at that little thing!” Bahorel cooed.

Combeferre moved past the others, kneeling down a few feet away from Grantaire and Enjolras.

“Camille, this is our friend Melion.” Jehan introduced gently.

Combeferre made a small noise in agreement, as if they regularly adopted fake names, which honestly wouldn’t surprise him a bit,  “Do you know how you got here?”

Enjolras shook his head.

“He woke up by the fire.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Mama sneaked into my room and tucked me into bed after Flo left.”

“He said it’s his friend’s birthday in a few days.”

Combeferre looked up, confused. “Friend?”

“ _Courf._ He said that his friend Courf would hunt us down and they would beat us up if he missed his birthday.”

“Damn straight.” Courfeyrac muttered from where he was now building up the fire.

“Yeah!” Enjolras agreed at the same time.

Abandoning the fire abruptly, Courfeyrac headed across the room to pintsized Enjolras and offered his hand.  “Camille, why don’t you and me go upstairs and find something for you to wear.” Enjolras didn’t move for a while, just glanced to Courfeyrac’s hand and back up to his face, completely disinterested. “We’ll have to shrink some clothes with magic though, so they fit you.”

“Yeah! You’re a wizard!” Enjolras threw his first into the air like a tiny victorious lion and then took Courfeyrac’s hand, tugging him in the direction of the stairs “Can you turn people into toads? My friend ‘ferre says that wizards can turn people into toads and that’s why we should never throw things at her when she’s reading! But it’s so hard because sometimes Coof and I _really_ want to play but she and Jehan will be reading—Jehan’s only little he can’t _really_ read, he only pretends but ‘ferre can read books for five year olds already! She is four though so it’s not that impressive. Mama says I have the manors of a six year old at least and I’m only three. I’m going to be four like ‘ferre in…” his voice trailed off as they started to climb the steps and he made Courfeyrac stop so he could count on his fingers. “Five months!”

“Four.” Combeferre and Courfeyrac mouthed at each other across the room and then broke out into identical grins.

“Coof and ‘ferre and Jehan don’t have as many tutors as I do so it’s not fair, you know. So I bring my work and I do it with them because that way they learn too! And,” Enjolras giggled deviously, “I don’t have to do the work!”

Jehan laughed as the pair disappeared from sight, with Enjolras laughing about fish.

“So.” Joly said at once.

“What the fuck?” Bahorel agreed.

“Enjolras somehow turned himself into a child.” Grantaire said flatly, grasping at straws.

The front door opened and closed and then a boy who looked about ten or twelve stopped at the top of the stairs. He blinked at them all in surprise and it took Grantaire one vaguely shellshocked moment to realize it was Gavroche and not another one of his friends spelled into a child. Gavroche was still largely a mystery to him, he came and he went as he pleased and Grantaire never knew where he was going to pop up. In Jehan’s flower shop? In the bakery? He seemed to be everywhere at once. Everyone treated him like a younger brother and he claimed he was everyone’s apprentice. Sometimes he slept at the castle and sometimes he went wherever it was he went when he wasn’t here.

“What happened this early in the day?”

“Enjolras’ is a toddler.” Bahorel explained cheerfully.

“ _Nice_.” Gavroche whispered and sat down at the table to eat the apple he procured from his pocket and to listen to their early morning drama.  

Bahorel turned back to the others, “His first name’s Camille? I’m never going to let him live that down.”

“Actually…” Combeferre began and Jehan sighed.

“He just told Grantaire.”

Combeferre nodded and didn’t so much as glance to Grantaire for his reaction. “Okay. We’ll tell everyone.”

“Tell everyone what?” Bahorel eyed the three of them suspiciously and Joly looked vaguely betrayed Grantaire hadn’t told her yet.

“Enjolras is sort of…”

Combeferre interrupted Grantaire with a practiced ease, “Do you remember the High Norland prince that went missing when we were kids?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well…”

“Are you kidding? That’s _Enjolras?_ Mr. fuck the monarchy, we should be a democracy is a _prince?_ ” Gavroche blurted out and at least three people told him not to say ‘fuck’.

“We ran away from home when we were sixteen; well he was sixteen, I was fourteen. I lost my sight a year later, a couple of days after we finally crossed the border into Ingary actually.”

“But how did this happen.” Combeferre asked, eyes on Grantaire.

“He was like this when I came downstairs.”

Joly, who was now rummaging around near where Grantaire first spotted Enjolras, sighed in frustration.

“Nothing?” Bahorel called.

“There’s nothing here that indicates he was doing magic.”

Feuilly shrugged, “He’s Enjolras, he’s always doing magic.”

“Well, he did this spell all on his--”

Feet pounded on the stairs and Enjolras crashed into the landing. Courfeyrac swore and ran down the stairs after him, “Be careful.”

“Please, someone figure out how to reverse this soon. I don't care what it takes I can't survive growing up with him again.” Jehan said faintly, catching Enjolras’ attention.

“Is it breakfast?”

“I gave you bread!” Grantaire protested and Enjolras glared at him like he was supposed to have kept that a secret.

“Why’s everyone standing around like that?”

“No reason.” Joly said immediately, sounding six shades of suspicious.

“Something peculiar is going on and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.” Enjolras announced.

“ _He’s so cute,”_ Bahorel whispered into Grantaire’s ear in a strangled sort of way.

“If you want, we can go to the bakery and you can get breakfast there.” Feuilly offered.

Without warning, Enjolras launched himself at Feuilly. Grantaire and Joly both moved too slowly to intercept him before he was in Feuilly’s arms. A side effect of being half fire demon or whatever he was was that he burnt anything and everything he touched. Grantaire had scars from the first day to prove it. Feuilly had gloves and cloaks and a wide array of magical tricks to be able to live with it but he didn’t have any of that now to protect Enolras.  Instead of screaming, however, Enjolras laughed and Feuilly lifted him up high, grinning broadly.

“Actually, sorry, I need to borrow Feuilly but Bahorel and Tyolet will take you.” Enjolras frowned pointedly at Combeferre but allowed himself to be handed off to Bahorel who suddenly looked terrified. Jehan on the other hand, looked delighted to babysit, despite his earlier announcement of not surviving growing up with him twice.

“Can I ride on your shoulders?” Enjolras asked Bahorel.

“Only if you promise not to fall off.”

“He can’t be burned.” The fire demon explained quietly as he watched Combeferre walk them to the front door. “No matter the fire, he can’t be burned.”

“How?”

“It’s a story for another day.”

“Has it always been like this?”

“For nearly as long as I’ve known him.”

“Oh.” Joly sighed and for the first time Grantaire found himself thinking that maybe he didn’t want to hear the story of how they met Feuilly. Joly’s sigh had been impossibly sad and when he glanced to his friend it was to see that she looked upset.

“Let’s just figure out how to change him back, please.” Feuilly’s voice was quiet and Grantaire watched as Combeferre and Courfeyrac shared a tired, terrified glance.

 

* * *

Two days and they had found nothing.

They hadn't found a single clue as to what spell or curse was on Enjolras.

And if that wasn't enough, the universe decided to shit on him further.

“What do you mean you can’t find my father?” Grantaire demanded and Combeferre shook her head.

“Someone’s blocking him.” She hand her hands above the fire, paused in the act of casting the Seeing spell. Grantaire had gone to her for his daily reassurances that his family was safe immediately.

“Someone like the King?”

“Let’s do a more detailed tracking spell.” Already, Combeferre was headed into the workshop but Grantaire stayed where he was. She had showed him how that spell worked and it was going to take much too long.

“I’m going to see my sister.”

She turned around in the doorway, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah it’s--”

As if he had an ingrained knack of showing up at the moment that was most inconvenient to him, Enjolras came bounding down the stairs.

“I want to see your sister!”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Combeferre asked, transparently amused.

“I want to see your sister! I have to see your sister!”

“You don’t even know his sister why are you acting like this.” Combeferre asked blankly, watching Enjolras jump up and down.

“Please, R. Please.”

“Enjolras, how about you stay with me and--”

Immediately, Enjolras began to wail and Grantaire just scooped him up and headed out the door. The sooner he saw Cosette, the sooner her could get Enjolras back.

“Be careful.” Combeferre sighed, leaning on the doorway.

Grantaire shot her a look that read that he’d try.

 

* * *

 

“Cosette!” Grantaire pushed his way to the front of the line, pulling Enjolras closer to him. Enjolras looked around expectantly at the people but Grantaire only had eyes for his sister.

“Grantaire!” Cosette snapped and something was wrong. Her voice was deeper than it should be and her eyes were brown, not blue. She turned to the girl next to her, “Cover for me? I have to talk to my cousin.”

The other girl nodded and Cosette nodded towards the left. Grantaire followed her, shielding the child in his arms from the crowd.

“What the hell, R? I haven’t heard from you in months! And who’s the kid? What the hell have you been doing?”

She grabbed him and pulled him around the counter and into the back room. She sat him down and Enjolras immediately squirmed out of his arms and went exploring around the room. He focused on Cosette again and she had done something different with her hair, it was darker. Or maybe it was Lamarque’s spell? Maybe it was messing with his perception of her?

“Cosette?” He asked.

Cosette squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, “I’m not Cosette, I’m Éponine.”

“You—what?” In his peripheral vision, he saw Enjolras stop to look at Cosette-Éponine in wonder.

“We switched places two weeks into our internships. That’s how long it took me to find a spell that works. Grantaire, I never wanted to be a witch. Yes I have powers but…that’s not the life for me.”

Two weeks into the internship meant she was the one to warn them about people looking for Ultime. “Éponine?”

“Yeah.” She glanced to Enjolras who was wandering around in circles now, appearing deep in toddler thought. Her eyes met Grantaire’s sharply, “But what the hell about you?”

He shrugged, “You know how you said to stay _away_ from the Moving Castle?”

“Goddamn it, Grantaire. What the hell!”

“Listen it’s alright. I was being chased by the King’s Guard and they saved me. I’ve been living there ever since.”

“And where does the kid fit into this?”

“Oh well…”

Enjolras, seeing this as his cue, marched over and held out his hand, “I’m Prince Camille Philippe—“

“Enjolras!” He snapped, they had been over this more than once. As an adult Enjolras seemed pretty knowledgeable but as a kid he was denser than a bag of rocks. “What did everyone tell you?”

Instead of looking ashamed or scolded, Enjolras just glared at Grantaire then turned back to Éponine with a charming, toothy smile, “I’m Enjolras.”

Éponine’s smile was unsure and she glanced to Grantaire before speaking, “Nice to meet you, Enjolras. Do you want a sweet roll?”

“Do I?” Enjolras practically bounce on the heels of his feet, staring at her hands like she was going to magic one out of thin air. Which was obviously exactly what he wanted. Honestly, Enjolras was one of the most feared sorcerers in the entire land, if it wasn’t so adorable it’d almost be embarrassing. But everyone had to start somewhere, he guessed.

Éponine just stood up and walked to the doorway to the kitchen. She merely had to ask once and she had a roll in her hands. Turning back to them, she could only just keep a smile under control.

“So you sort of love it here, don’t you?”

Éponine shrugged, “It’s alright I guess. I miss you and Cosette and Ultime, though.”

“Have you heard from him?”

“I’ve only heard from Cosette.” She watched Enjolras lick his fingers for a moment and then glanced back to Grantaire, “She’s pissed by the way. Just a heads up.”

“Éponine...” Grantaire began and his sister’s expression went carefully blank.

“What is it? What’s happened?”

Leaning back in the chair, he shrugged and waved a hand in the air, “I like to check in on you all and this morning we...couldn’t find Ultime.”

“What do you mean you couldn’t find him! What kind of spell was it? What do you mean _you_ were doing the spell?”

“I have help-- _obviously_ but...it’s not a strong spell, I left before we could start the stronger spell because if something happened to him, you’d know.”

“I don't know. I haven't heard anything.”

“The spell takes four hours.”

Éponine stood and began pacing the room, “So you drop in here to see if I know anything and then what? You’re going to leave and you’re going to do this spell and then what? Write me a letter to let me know if our father’s okay or not?”

“I’ll come back.”

“You’ll go back to the moving castle and then come all the way back here?”

“Oh well--you see, the thing is.”

“We didn’t come from a castle!” Enjolras helpfully supplied, then paused as he realized they did and frowned.

“The old magic shop across town, Encausse’s, is a front for the castle. I mean, Combeferre sells spells and potions from it so it’s a real magic shop but...it’s a front for the castle.”

“I…” she began and then she narrowed her eyes, “You’ve been across town from me this entire time and you only come to me when you can’t find Papa?”

“It’s not safe.” Grantaire protested and someone from the front of the shop called out _Cosette._

Éponine glared over her shoulder in the direction of the voice but sighed, “I should get back to work. You be safe.”

“Of course. I’m always safe.”

Éponine rolled her eyes and hugged him tightly, before pulling away. She crossed her arms, looking impossibly young, “Grantaire. Let me know the second you find out.”

“Of course.” He promised and then he and Enjolras stepped back out onto the street.

 

* * *

 

When they set off that morning, it had been overcast and Grantaire had been wary of rain because Enjolras had already proven himself overly fond of puddles (Gavroche was no longer allowed to take Enjolras out on his own). However, the clouds had since parted and the streets of Market Chipping were packed with people set on taking advantage of the warm, sunny day. This meant Enjolras had to hold Grantaire’s hand so as not to vanish in the crowd. The tiny child straight up refused to be carried after leaving the bakery, Grantaire accepted that he’d never understand him, no matter the age. He wore a spectacular glaring pout as people jostled him in the crowd. His tiny shoulders were set, his chest puffed out, the grip on Grantaire’s hand was painful.

“This way.” Grantaire said mostly to himself and pulled him down a side street.

“Where are we going?”

“Lunch.” he said, knowing that he was bound to be getting hungry again (despite the fact he had just demolished a sweet roll) and he usually took a nap after lunch so this way when they got back to the castle, he’d go to sleep instead of hanging all over them while they tried to do the searching spell.

With a little cheer, Enjolras allowed himself to be lead into a small park. When they had dropped Cosette off for her internship, he had found a cafe just on the other side of the park.  They had gotten no more than three feet into the shade when Grantaire heard a dog barking. He ignored it but Enjolras stopped in his tracks. Grantaire tugged him along and Enjolras whined.

If he could erase the whole ordeal from his mind, he would. Dealing with Enjolras like this was terrible. If he pretended he were just some kid who resembled him, Grantaire could deal with it but that hardly worked because it was impossible to forget that his friend was trapped in the body of his three year old self.

A Chihuahua darted at them from the bushes. Instinctively, Grantaire scooped Enjolras up into his arms. The tiny dog yipped at them, jumping around Grantaire as Enjolras squirmed in his arms, no doubt wanting to see the creature. Grantaire looked down the shrub-lined path but no one appeared through the bushes. He looked down at the dog. It was just sitting there now, barking to get his attention. He crouched down, holding out a hand towards the dog tentatively. It only licked it enthusiastically.  Enjolras, taking full advantage of Grantaire holding him with only one arm, bullied his way out of his arms and to his feet. The dog turned its attention to him as he scratched the top of its tiny head. Nearly toppling over in its attempt to get more attention from the boy, the Chihuahua started yipping again in the most grating high pitched way.

“He’s lost.” Enjolras announced sadly.

“He doesn’t have a collar. There’s nothing we can do.”

“I was lost and you helped me.”

Grantaire glanced down to him and then to the dog, “Do you want to make wanted flyers? We can’t go to the Guard with this, sorry.”

“Right. Cause the Guard is bad.” Enjolras nodded and went to pet the dog again. The dog, however, perked it’s ears up and looked around. Without warning, it took off running back into the bushes, yipping loudly. Enjolras cried in alarm and raced after it, throwing himself headlong into the shrubbery.

It took Grantaire a solid five minutes to pull Enjolras out and by then the dog had vanished.

They continued their trek to the cafe with Enjolras pouting, his arms crossed across his chest. Grantaire had tried several times to cheer him up but he would have none of it. Enjolras ordered at the cafe via jabbing his finger on the menu and sipped his juice while glaring off into the distance.

A bark sounded from down the street and when Grantaire turned to look, he wasn’t even that surprised to see that damn Chihuahua prancing towards them. Not walking or running, _prancing_.

“He found us!” Enjolras chirped, hopping off his seat to meet it, his sour mood instantly melted. When it saw Enjolras, the dog when from prancing to hauling ass over to him so that by the time it reached him, it was panting. Enjolras pat it on the head and walked slowly next to it as they made their way back to the table.

Grantaire watched the pair over the rim of his glass. “It could have fleas.”

“You could have fleas!”

“ _Enjolras_.”

“I’m only translating.”

“Oh so now you speak dog?”

Enjolras only giggled, pushing the thing down as it started licking his face.

The tiny dog was practically shaking with excitement as Enjolras bent down to look at it. Grantaire watched the pair as he sipped at his drink. Enjolras scratched it on top of the head and then scooped it up. The dog appeared to be purring in his arms. Setting the dog on his seat, Enjolras climbed up next to it. The pair fit in the chair comfortably and Grantaire just raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing?”

“Sharing my lunch with him.” Enjolras ripped a tiny piece off his bread and fed it to the dog which nearly toppled off the chair in its excitement. “See! He’s very hungry.”

“Eat your lunch.” Grantaire sighed. Something in his chest twisted painfully and he had to push down the knowledge that he _missed_ Enjolras.

“He’s cursed.” Enjolras said suddenly, which was several shades of ironic.

“Who’s cursed?”

“The puppy.”

“The dog’s cursed?”

“Yep.” The dog barked and stood up on two legs, putting two tiny paws on Enjolras’ chest and proceeded to lick his face. Enjolras just pushed it away and gave it another piece of his sandwich. “We’re keeping him.”

“No we’re not.”

“Yes we are. Look at him he’s only little.”

“I don’t care what size he is, the others are going to kill me if we bring a dog back.”

“But I was lost and little and you kept me.”

“That’s different.”

“No it’s not.” Enjolras glared at him as both he and the dog ate more of the sandwich. When he spoke again his voice was low and dangerous and Grantaire had to cover his mouth so he didn’t laugh. “We’re keeping him.”

Sighing, Grantaire took a sip of his drink and Enjolras threw his hands down onto the table, rattling the dishes.

“Please, R! I’ll be a good boy and won’t make any potions promise! I won’t wake you up until the sun’s all the way up. I won’t steal books and I’ll stop breaking things to watch everyone fix them with magic.”

Grantaire looked to him, then to the dog and then decided it wasn’t really his problem. “Okay.”

Enjolras’ eyes went wide and even the goddamn chihuahua looked at him with something akin to joy in its beady eyes. Grantaire just shook his head and continued eating lunch.

They’d eat, go back to the castle, Combeferre would do the spell and then he’d go back to Éponine. He was doing more running around than Gavroche.

Of course, fate or destiny or whatever had other plans.

The only reason Grantaire knew something was wrong was because Enjolras and the dog both stopped eating to glare behind him.

Before Grantaire could so much as turn his head, a voice said, “Fauchelevent.”

Enjolras hopped off his chair and stood ready for a fight. Grantaire spun around to see two Guardsmen glaring them down.  

Without thinking, he jumped to his feet, yanked Enjolras back and pulled him up into his arms. The dog cowered behind him.

“Fauchelevent, you’re under arrest for betraying the kingdom.”

“I’m what.” the words escaped Grantaire’s lips before he could process them but then shook his head. He took a step back and the guardsmen raised their weapons. His mind went into a white fuzzy panic, Enjolras was defenseless in his arms, there was a dog _sobbing_ at his heels and there were guardsmen who were convinced that he was a traitor of all things?

The ground rumbled beneath his feet, and numbly, he thought one of the others had found them and was coming to his rescue. He glanced behind him but there were no familiar faces watching the exchange.

He heard the cock of a gun and then without warning their table lifted off the ground and slammed into the guards. They both went down immediately and Grantaire spun around and raced down the street, not bothering to look for their savior. Enjolras sobbed into his shoulder as he ran for reasons Grantaire didn’t know. Maybe he was throwing a fit because they were going to lose the dog? Maybe he was just frightened? His hands clutched at his shirt as he tried to put as much distance between the guard and them as possible.

Grantaire turned the corner that put them on the road with the magic shop and he quietly bounced the toddler on his hip to get him to calm down as he tried to figure out if they were still being chased or not. Leading the king to the castle wasn’t high on his list of things to do today.

The street was bustling and not interested in him, a crying child and an out of breath dog. Glancing down, he saw that it was no longer crying but instead just determinedly trying to catch it’s breath. Enjolras sniffled loudly and Grantaire took off across the street, hyperaware of everything around him as he got closer and closer to the magic shop.  

With one last glance that he tried to make casual, Grantaire slipped into the castle, Enjolras on his hip, head buried into his shoulder. The dog followed them up the stairs happily and the door slammed on its own.

“Oh thank god, there you are. I thought you were going to be right back.” Combeferre walked over to them and tried to take Enjolras from Grantaire but the boy only clutched onto Grantaire tighter. “No! Want R!” The boy was silently crying, although his sobs were steadily getting louder now.

“What happened?”

“The—the—“ Enjolras began but eventually just resumed his sobbing even louder than before, wailing dramatically. Which was good because the bigger the show, the less he was actually upset.

“The guard found us.” Grantaire said over the sound of Enjolras sobbing, “they know who I am, they called me a traitor to the king and were ready to shoot.”

“Fuck, what are they _doing_?” Courfeyrac whispered, his face going slightly ashen.

“Don’t curse in front of the kid.” Combeferre hit him on the shoulder and Courfeyrac hissed something that sounded like _he was the one who taught me_.

“I wasn’t followed.” There was nothing Grantaire wanted more than to put Enjolras down but he was doing his best to choke him.

“Oh but cool you got a dog!” Courfeyrac said suddenly and he bent down to scratch behind the chihuahua’s ears.

Combeferre, steadily ignoring both of her best friends, just looked to Grantaire, “I finished the spell without you. It said he was alive and safe.”

“We can't see him.” Alive and safe meant Grantaire was able to watch over him.

“We think he’s being blocked by someone’s magic.” Courfeyrac didn’t look up and Grantaire’s eyes went wide, if this was a recent event, then Cosette wouldn’t have had time to write to Éponine and--

“I think I know where he is.” Combeferre shut her eyes for a moment like her patience was wearing thin and Grantaire hurried to continue, “Our sister Cosette is studying with a witch named Lamarque--if he’s with her--”

“Lamarque?” Courfeyrac spoke suddenly, causing both Enjolras and the dog to jump.

Grantaire just raised an eyebrow, “Yeah. Why?”

“She was our teacher, back in the day. We’ll go now.”

“I was wondering how she’s been handling Cosette so well. I’m sure everything’s easier after you three.”

“She’s going to love that Enjolras cursed himself.”

“I’ll figure out what’s going on with--Grantaire.” Combeferre turned to look at him, her expression carefully blank, “Didn’t you just go to see Cosette? In Kingsbury?”

Before Grantaire could speak, Enjolras’ sobs ceased and he lifted his head, “She’s Éponine! His sisters switched! Like with magic. Cool, huh?”

Courfeyrac held out his arms and Enjolras flung himself over to him. Grantaire couldn’t hide his relief, Enjolras had the mentality of a three year old. There were so many consent issues floating around, what with him spilling nearly half of his and his friends closely guarded secrets. Not even Feuilly had known the other’s past and he had known them for nearly a decade now. “Yeah, my sisters switched places weeks ago. So Cosette’s at your teacher’s and Éponine’s at the bakery.”

“Let’s go see Cosette!” Enjolras cheered and both Courfeyrac and Combeferre looked a bit charmed.

Combeferre directed the three of them out the castle door, evidently they’d be walking to Upper Folding (Enjolras climbed atop Courfeyrac’s shoulders and looked much too excited about the hike).

“Why don’t you own a carriage?” Grantaire asked after twenty minutes of walking and Courfeyrac was starting to look a little sick as he watched Enjolras and the dog play and scream.

“Where would we put it?”

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Grantaire just sent him a narrowed glance, “You created a bedroom for me out of nowhere.”

Courfeyrac shrug, “We have the castle, it takes us to where we have to be.”

Grantaire went to protest but then he realized that he could see Upper Folding up ahead of them. He shut his mouth and instead glared to Courfeyrac, who only smiled smugly at him.

“What? We couldn’t come too close to town. Plus, I’m hoping the walk tires Enjolras out.”

“He’s sleeping in your room tonight.”

“He hasn’t slept in your room once. The one time he did he snuck out in the middle of the night to go bother Feuilly.”

“He’s going to kill all of us for this.”

“Why? It’s his own fault.”

“We’re here!” Enjolras called, jumping up and down, causing the dog to run circles around him.

“Let’s go find your sister.”

Lamarque’s mansion was located on the outskirts of town, covered in vines in a way that made it seem like the forest was trying to reclaim it.

“Grantaire!” A voice cried from one of the upstairs windows almost immediately and then less than a minute later, Cosette threw herself out of the front door and into her brother’s arms. “What on earth have you been doing?”

“Do you have Ultime?”

Cosette ignored him and immediately looked to Courfeyrac, “I’m sorry—I was so caught up in not seeing my brother for months I’ve completely neglected to introduce myself. I’m Éponine.”

“Courfeyrac.” he smiled, letting her keep the lie.

“Oh! You’re one of the wizards--from the moving castle!”

Courfeyrac looked betrayed that he had kept her lie and she immediately spilt his, “How do you know?”

“There are rumors about you being former students of Lamarque and well, I found papers with your names on it hidden in the attic when I was cleaning one day.”

Enjolras cleared his throat, stood up straight and plastered what he must have thought was a charming smile on his face. Courfeyrac and Grantaire shared a worried glance as Cosette asked, “Who’s this?”

“Enjolras.”

Cosette did a double take, “Really?”

“Can you teach me magic?” he asked politely.

Giggling, Cosette crouched down to his level, “What do you want to know?”

Enjolras’ eyes lit up and he bounced on the balls of his feet, “Everything!”

The chihuahua chose that moment to make it’s presence known by attempting to climb into Cosette’s lap, “And who’s this?”

“He’s a dog. He doesn't have a name yet.” Enjolras explained carefully.

“What should we name him?”

“It has to be a good name.”

“How about…Marcassin ”

To Grantaire's surprise, Enjolras laughed shrilly, “No--that’s silly!”

“Marin?”

“Nah.”

“Orsino?”

“Yeah I like that one! Orsino.”

Grantaire interrupted quietly, “Is pere here?”

She glanced away from the pair and shook her head, “I haven’t heard from him at all. And--no offense--but what are you doing caught up with the Moving Castle?”

“It’s the safest place in the kingdom right now. If things get worse--”

“The war’s far away from us.”

“The war’s in the valley. I was almost killed by some scouts.”

“What?” Cosette hissed, standing and looking him over.

“I’m fine. It’s just. We’re here because we can’t find Ultime.”

“You were almost killed and you’re here because Papa isn’t at home?”

Courfeyrac choose that moment to step in, “R does spells daily to check in on you all and today none of the spells we did could find your father.”

“So you’re here for Lamarque’s help.”

“Courfeyrac!” A voice rang out sharply and Courfeyrac flinched as if caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“She always does that.” he hissed and then went into the house, leaving Cosette and Grantaire to round up the other two and follow.

Grantaire had only briefly met his sister’s tutor when they dropped her off, so it was a bit of a shock when he saw how tightly she was hugging Courfeyrac. “You children are going to be in so much trouble when everything catches up with you.”

Courfeyrac laughed off the ominous warning, “That’s the point. We’re not going to let it catch up with us.”

Larmarque clicked her tongue and shook her head.  She looked over to the others and her eyebrows raised at the sight of Enjolras but she didn’t look all that surprised. Instead she decided to look surprised at Grantaire. “Oh so this is who he was talking about.” She said cryptically and Grantaire looked to both his sister and friend for explanation but found none.

“Um. Who was talking about me?”

“My most foolhardy prodigy.” she responded and then shuffled over to look at Enjolras. She waved a hand over top of him and blue sparks emitted from his body, causing him to jump slightly and look up at her with wide eyes.

“Again!”

She waved her hand and a door on the far side of the room opened, “Go play in the library. I’m sure there’s a beginner spellbook in there you can practice with.”

Enjolras and the newly christened Orsino both charged into the other room.

“It’s self imposed. I’m afraid it’s because of a countercurse backfiring. You remember when he came by before? Tall, blond hair, charming.”

“Oh.” Cosette looked to the other two, “He was here because his friend was cursed and he didn’t know what to do about it.”

“Who’s cursed?” Grantaire asked but Courfeyrac interrupted with a, “Not--”

“No. Not that curse. A different one.”

“Who’s cursed?” Grantaire repeated, this time to Courfeyrac but his lips remained firmly sealed.

“So, he’s a toddler because he tried to break someone else’s curse?”

Lamarque nodded and then settled down into a chair. Courfeyrac and Cosette both pulled Grantaire down onto the couch. “I can’t break it. Self-imposed curses usually can only be broken by the caster.”

“Do we have to teach him how to do it?”

She shrugged, “If it wasn’t cast on purpose then I’m afraid we may have to wait until the spell loses its strength.”

Courfeyrac was on his feet again immediately, “No. Who knows how long that could take. The others and I have been researching and--”

“Easy, the spell isn’t that strong.”

“He bent time.”

Cosette gasped and peered into the other room, no doubt already thinking about what books could be of use to help him because even Grantaire knew how dangerous fucking around with time was.

“Exactly. It took an enormous amount of energy just to cast the spell. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Enough about you know who.” Courfeyrac sat abruptly next to Grantaire again, causing both him and his sister to bounce. “They can’t find their father.”

“I haven’t spoken to him since he dropped Éponine off.” Lamarque said a little sadly.

“We need help locating him. All our location spells have come up empty. We know he’s safe but that’s all the information we can get.”

At that, the conversation took a decidedly more professional tone, Cosette helped explain spells as well as she could but it got to a point where Lamarque and Courfeyrac were speaking an entirely different language. He caught several words he knew, potions ingredients and spell words Combeferre taught him, but he was decidedly left out of the conversation.

“Dear, will you run and fetch the books?” Lamarque asked and if there had been titles being thrown around, they went over his head. He should be making sure Enjolras didn't spell the dog for all the good he was doing here. “Don't worry, if the spell said your father was safe, he’s safe.”

“Thank you.” He said for the lack of anything else to say.

“Here.” Cosette said dropping three books and the dog on his lap. The dog immediately attacked his face as if it were over excited to see him.

“Cosette.” Grantaire protested and then realized what he said, “I mean--”

But Lamarque just sighed, “Oh, have we stopped pretending we all don’t know who you really are?”

“Madame--I’m sorry--” Cosette began but Lamarque interrupted her with a smile.

“Nonsense. No need to apologize. It was a very difficult spell and you two cast it beautifully. If your sister didn’t hate it here so much it’d offer to train the both of you.”

“You’re...not upset with me for lying?”

“Of course not. You fought for what you wanted and didn’t let anyone stop you. I’m proud. You’re by far the best student I’ve ever had.”

“Ouch.” Courfeyrac whispered and Lamarque glared at him.

“I still remember when you and Laigle accidentally erased yourself from existence for seven minutes.”

Courfeyrac turned a strange shade of grey almost instantaneously and it caught Grantaire so off guard he broke out into laughter.

 

* * *

 

The days after visiting his sisters were the equivalent of a magic boot camp, Grantaire barely held on but everyone else was thriving.

Everyone else but Enjolras.

He loved watching everyone and being in the way but then Courfeyrac’s birthday rolled around and he realized something wasn't right.

Grantaire woke to Enjolras sulking on Jehan’s desk. He had the door open to a lake and he stared out the window ignoring everyone who went about their day keeping an eye on him but not really paying attention--if he needed something, he’d let them know.

Enjolras finally came down from the desk to aggressively sulk closer to where Grantaire, Joly, Combeferre and Jehan were looking through spell books. Each one, Grantaire suspected, had their own focus. His was on his father, Joly was on Bossuet, Combeferre on Enjolras, and Jehan the ever-looming war.

“Okay but what if you don’t put mandrake in, how would that change things?” Jehan asked, his feet resting on top of several books that were completely useless to him. Lamarque had sent over a couple books in braille but Jehan had already read through them all.

“Why did she give you this book?” Combeferre asked Grantaire suddenly, holding up a volume simple labeled “The Witch Who Was a Wolf” and Jehan frowned at the interruption.

“I don’t know. She ended up magicking a bag to carry them all, I didn’t see what she had Cosette put in there.”

“It’s a romance novel.” Combeferre frowned.

Jehan laughed, “Read us some of it, maybe it’s code?”

Enjolras crawled up onto the bench and then into Jehan’s lap. “Today is Coof’s birthday.” he announced sadly.

“Are you upset you’re missing the party?” Jehan asked cautiously.

“No. Something very terrible and horrible must have happened because there’s no way he’d let me miss his birthday. This is much worse than I thought. What if they’re the ones in trouble and not me? What if they were kidnapped by bad people?” Enjolras worry lasted for about twenty seconds more before his face crumpled and he flung himself from Jehan’s lap and went running up the stairs, crying.

“Not it.” Jehan said immediately and Combeferre laughed despite herself.  

“Grantaire it’s your turn.”

Grantaire glared at the both of them. “Literally seeing him like this is freaking me out and you all keep handing him off on me.”

“It’s weird for everyone and you have the least to do.”  As if to demonstrate how busy she was, she opened the romance novel and began flipping through the pages like she was looking for something. A blush immediately overtook her cheeks and Grantaire laughed.

“Holy shit.” Joly sighed, “Enjolras is upstairs crying his little heart out, I’ll go get him.”

“Grantaire go with her.” Jehan said, earning an elbow from Combeferre but Grantaire just glared at them both and followed after the brunette.

Grantaire sighed when he realized Feuilly’s door was barricaded shut, he turned to look to Joly who crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

“Enjolras.” he tried and got a muffled bang in response. “This is very immature.”

Enjolras wailed and Joly slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Grantaire tried to open the door again but it wouldn’t budge so he sat next to her.

“I miss him.” Grantaire confessed after several long moments and Joly rested her head on his shoulder.

“Me too. We’re all trying to figure it out. Lamarque said we had to wait but I just wish he’d come back.”

The two were talking softly but Enjolras opened the door slightly. Grantaire could see chairs and clothes and books still blocking them entry but Enjolras slipped out and joined them in the hall. The door closed with a soft thump behind him but Enjolras ignored it. Sorry, Feuilly.

“Your friend is missing too?” Enjolras asked with a solemnity that only a child could muster.

Grantaire shrugged, “Yeah.” Joly held out her arms and Enjolras climbed into her lap.

“Do you think they’re together?” Enjolras asked quietly, into Joly’s chest. “Because I hope they are because you take care of me and I know Coof’s older but he’s still little and your friend would take care of him because you take care of me and you wouldn’t be friends with someone who wouldn’t take care of Coof.”

“Yeah. I’m sure our friends are taking care of each other.”

Enjolras glanced up to Grantaire, “I want to make him a present. You have that cloak that changes the way you look. I want you to make him glasses that change his hair.”

Grantaire thought back to the solitary time Enjolras had seen him wearing one of the spelled cloaks that floated around the castle and were used decidedly too often for Grantaire’s comfort, “What makes you think I could do that?”

“You’re a wiza _r_ d.” Enjolras giggled, stressing the r and Joly looked like she was going to have a goddamn stroke right then and there.

“I’m really not.”

“You’re like Orsino.”

“Hyperactive and annoying?”

“Cursed.” He sighed heatedly.

“I’m the eldest of three.”

He huffed in annoyance and shook his head. “So’s my friend ‘ferre!” Enjolras cried, throwing his hands down at his side, clearly stressed out by Grantaire’s blatant refusal to accept what he was saying.

“Come on, let’s get out of the hallway.” Joly stood, over exaggerating having creaking joints and dragging them all into her room.

“I bet they’re going to find me any day. I bet your friends are together and I bet they’re going to come here soon.”

Combeferre opened the door several long minutes later to see Joly holding Enjolras upside down, her arms wrapped around his legs. “Please don’t drop him.” She sighed and Joly and Enjolras both laughed. She went and sat down on the loveseat and shut her eyes for a moment.

Enjolras, seeing this as an opportunity he couldn’t possibly pass up, wiggled his way to the floor and then went over to stand in front of Combeferre. She opened an eye and he giggled, “Grantaire's going to make Coof a great birthday present and Joly said she was going to help--”

“When did I say that!” Joly protested, hands on her hips.

“--but they’re silly and I think you should help them. I want glasses that change his hair color. He has brown hair but I want them to make his hair like mine.”

“What kind of glasses were you thinking of?” she asked seriously and Enjolras climbed up onto the loveseat next to her and made circles with his hands and help them up to his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Enjolras squished her face and Combeferre couldn’t help but chuckle. Pleased with himself, Enjolras sat on the arm of the loveseat next to her. “Why are you so serious?”

She laughed again, indignent and then scooped him up and stood in one fluid motion.  He howled in surprised laughter and then she dropped him on the bed next to Joly and blew raspberries onto his stomach.

“She’s just stressed.” Joly whispered to Grantaire and, yeah, he could kinda see that. He had been with them for months now but he still didn’t know them. He didn’t even know Joly--he just knew Joly without Bossuet and if they ever got to the end of this, would there still be a place here for him? Did he want there to be?

 

* * *

 

“Grantaire!” Someone grabbed his arm and shook it roughly, “Wake up!”

“…Joly?” Blearily, he opened his eyes and squinted in the darkness. The only light came in from the moon and he could only just make out her shape.

“Your sister’s here. She’s freaking out.”

Grantaire sat up sharply, “Who?”

“Dark hair,” Joly mimicked bangs and tapped her shoulder to indicate length and for some reason that made the words sink in.

“Freaking out?” he demanded, nearly shoving Joly out of his way as he climbed out of bed and pulled on a shirt. Whatever Joly said was lost as Grantaire bolted out of his room. He didn’t, however, miss her sigh as she ran after him.

Éponine sat at the table, a mug of tea in her hand, Combeferre at her side. She shook and brushed her finger through her hair sporadically.

“What happened?” Grantaire asked as soon as he reached the landing.

“I was walking from the bakery to the apartment when these fucks grabbed me and dragged me two blocks. I got away and raced here. Took you long enough to open the door.”

Grantaire scooped her up into a tight hug and he could feel her relief in the way she held him tight.

“They called me Fauchelevant.” she whispered and Grantaire could only think of one thing: if they had found Éponine they could find Cosette as well.

Bahorel, who had been in the dark dining room, came out with a glass of water which Éponine took as soon as she let go of Grantaire.

Grantaire put a hand over the glass when she went to drink it and stared Combeferre down, “Promise me this isn’t laced with a potion.”

“What?” Éponine asked, looking between the two with quiet confusion.

Combeferre rolled her eyes, a smile on her face, “R, we’re passed that. And I haven’t been up for three days straight so I can actually function right now.”

“What? You gave him a potion?”

“Just a sleeping potion.” she said quickly and Grantaire could see the moment Éponine thought _fuck it_ and she took a sip.

“I have to get back.” All four--Bahorel, Combeferre, Grantaire and Joly--immediately protested and Éponine glared at them all in turn overtop of her glass. “These men could go after the other girls. I have to let Isabeau know that I’m alright and that someone might try to break in.”

“I’ll go there now and keep an eye on things and then you can go in the morning--in disguise of course.” Bahorel smiled wide, causing Grantaire to frown in preparation for what he was about to say, “ _If_ you promise to come work for me in the meantime. It just so happens I own a bakery behind door number two. It’s in Strangia so it’s perfectly safe.”

“He’s been wanting to hire you for weeks.”

“I’m pitifully understaffed. No one here can do anything _but_ burn bread. Except for Musichetta but she had more important things to do than keep us financially stable. The only reason I never went to recruit you is because your overprotective brother doesn’t want you involved with us.”

“Well I’m involved now.” she said quietly, “But yeah, of course I’ll work in your bakery. I can’t go back to Isabeau’s.”

“You don’t have to.” Grantaire said quietly but she shook her head. “Come on, Bahorel will watch over the girls and you come upstairs to my room and get some sleep.”

“You have a room?” she asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

“Don’t start.”

 

* * *

 

Éponine woke up to an empty bed and she wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to find that Grantaire wasn’t anywhere to be found. She stood in the dining room and silently fumed.

“So he just left without telling anyone? I was attacked, he was attacked--several times and he just left? And you just let him?” she demanded to the room at large.

“She was so much less scarier last night.” Bahorel whispered and then pointedly ignored her when she turned her glare onto him.

Jehan elbowed him sharply. “Last night she had just been half-kidnapped.”

“Are you alright?” Éponine turned around to see the kid--the others had introduced him as Gavroche when she first came down and apparently he came and went as he pleased--looking up at her.

“Yes. I’m just worried.”

He frowned and went to put the kettle on. Éponine watched him and the way Bahorel’s eyes followed after him in concern. Okay, so she wasn’t making up that this kid was acting weird.

“I’m going to go after him.” She announced but Bahorel shook his head sharply.

“He can handle himself.”

“No, he really can’t.” Éponine hissed and then Combeferre walked into the room.

“What’s going on?”

“She wants to go after Grantaire.” Jehan explained.

“He took Feuilly’s cloak, it’ll disguise him. He’ll be safe.” she assured her but right away Éponine knew she was lying.

“Someone needs to go after him.”

“We’ll get closer to Upper Folding and then someone will head over.”

Her eyes went wide as she remembered the castle _moved_. “Will we catch him?”

Combeferre shrugged, “Maybe. He’s probably already with Cosette if no one saw him leave. Was he here when you arrived, Gavroche?”

Gavroche shook his head as he busied himself making tea. He turned around and then walked over to Éponine and handed her the mug, lips turned down into a curious frown.

“Thank you.” she said, surprised, but touched at his action. He couldn’t be any older than ten.

He nodded and hopped onto the bench closest to her, sitting and swinging his legs looking down at the floor. “I left home when I was young.”

She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. “Young? You’re like six as it is now.”

“Twelve and a half. But I visit my sister every now and again.” He confessed and Courfeyrac turned to him, eyes wide like this was the first time he was hearing of it. Gavroche shrugged, “We used to have another sister but our parents sold her. She had magic and they didn't want to have to deal with it.”

Éponine lowered her cup, “That’s exactly what happened with me.”

“Yeah.” Gavroche said like he... _knew._

“What’s your sister’s name?” She asked, not quite knowing what she was feeling. If this kid said Azelma, if this kid was the brother she couldn’t remember.

“Azelma Thénardier.”

“What the fuck,” she whispered and straight up dropped the teacup. It shattered at her feet and his eyes lit up.

“‘Zelma said our sister’s name is Éponine and when everyone was talking about you this morning I thought it couldn’t be but it is!”

Tears welled up in Éponine’s eyes as Gavroche tentatively allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. “All I can remember of you two is Azelma’s name and the fact that you existed but you ran away from them when you were six actually _six_ and they took you in. They found you. They found Grantaire.”

“It was Bossuet actually. She found him and took him in.”

“And then Gavroche found Courfeyrac and they’re like soulmates.” Jehan complained good-naturedly.

“You’re welcome.” Gavroche teased and Jehan smiled as he rolled his eyes. Gavroche twisted so that he knelt on the bench and opened the window closest to him. Immediately, a cool breeze swept the room.

But it smelt...salty.

Combeferre laughed, a gentle sound, “Yeah, the windows open onto the harbor.”

Éponine gasped, the breeze blew her hair behind her, “I’ve never seen the ocean before.”

“Well, if you look above those buildings there you can see it.”

“I’ll take you, if you want.” Gavroche said shyly and Éponine tore her gaze away from the water and smiled.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” She turned and let the breeze cool her, “Where is this?”

“Beatrice. It’s upstairs from the bakery. It’s my favorite city in Strangia.”

Éponine laughed, “You guys are kind of amazing.”

“Yeah. I know.” Gavroche said and then ducked as Bahorel swung at him. He stuck his tongue out and then Feuilly walked into the room.

“Guys, Enjolras has a fever and he won’t talk to me. He just went straight into Grantaire’s bed and went back to sleep. Courfeyrac laid down with him.”

“Oh is that where he’s been.” Jehan mused and then Bahorel sighed.

“Alright, who’s going with Éponine to quit her apprenticeship.”

“I’m not quitting.”

“Okay,” he said but it was obvious he was just humouring her. She liked it at Isabeau’s, she really did. The other girls were friendly and she was popular with the customers. Everyone loved her there, the thought of starting over, in an entirely new country...sort of terrified her.

“I’ll go with you.” Combeferre volunteered, “Feuilly doesn’t have his cloak, Bahorel hasn’t slept at all and Jehan--”

“Won’t see them coming.” the redhead finished for her.

“I was going to say is on Enjolras duty today but whatever.”

Both of them laughed and Bahorel stood, stretching. “Alright well, I’m off for a nap, don’t any of you get into trouble for at least two hours.”

“We’ll try.” Feuilly and Jehan chorused.

Combeferre went and got a cloak which gave Éponine’s entire body pins and needles when she put it on. Gavroche cackled and Feuilly winked; her reflection in the mirror was that of an elderly man. “Huh,” she said, because suddenly she was less trusting of absolutely everyone.

Combeferre led her by the arm out of the castle and down the streets she had just raced through the night before. “Are you okay?” she asked and then, “Slow down you’re supposed to be ninety.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t talk.” Her voice was teasing and Éponine couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

The girls in the bakery all looked upset when they walked in but Isabeau was in the kitchen and as soon as they talked their way in back she lower her hood to break the enchantment. Immediately he hugged her and the bakers stopped what they were doing to do the same. The girls from out front were called into the back and Combeferre was forced to step away as they all crowded around her, relieved she was safe and amused by her cloak.

She loved these people so much. She didn’t want to leave them but she was a danger to them. They were in danger just because she had been here. Tearfully, she said goodbye to everyone and then it was just her, Combeferre and Isabeau in the back room. It had been just days ago that Grantaire had been here with the child, Enjolras. Everything had changed so quickly and she hated it.

“Do you know why men are after my father?” she asked Isabeau who only shook his head.

“We were imprisoned together when we were young but…”

“What? Père was in _prison_?”

“I was only there a few months. But, Cosette, he’d hate for me to tell you but I fear you may be in danger if I don’t...his name back then was Jean Valjean.”

She snuck a glance at Combeferre when he called her Cosette but the other woman didn’t look shocked in the slightest, Grantaire must have told her they switched places then. Combeferre frowned and she ran a hand through her hair and then it sunk in--Jean Valjean. “ _What_?”

“Your father is a good man. He was arrested for stealing food for his sister and her children. I don’t know what transpired between my release from prison and his subsequent name change but...he’s a good man. I’d do anything for him.”

“I...thank you.” She said, because what else could she say? “Thank you for taking me in and thank you for telling me.”

“Of course. Now get out of the city, I fear it’s not safe.”

They left and Éponine didn’t say a single thing the entire way back. Combeferre took her by the arm and carefully led her through a maze of streets. She was worried they might be followed because they had made a bit of a scene at the bakery but when they made it back to the magic shop, she didn’t seem stressed.

“Do your brother and sister know?” Combeferre asked as she took the cloak from her.

“That our father’s real name is Jean Valjean? No, I really don’t think so.”

“What?” Jehan asked and both of them jumped. He was laying on the bench in the dining room, all the windows open, reading.

“My father’s been lying about his name my entire life.” Éponine said, louder, in case anyone else was eavesdropping.

“Holy shit. So, that’s probably related to why the King’s after you all.”

“ _Probably”_ , Éponine scoffed, “Are we close to Upper Folding yet? Did we pass Grantaire?”

“Nearly and if we did, he didn’t climb in.”

“ _What?_ ”

Jehan put his hands up in front of him, “I’m kidding. Can you go check in on Courfeyrac and Enjolras? They’re still not up.”

Combeferre headed towards the stairs but took a sharp left and opened up a secret passage leading to what looked like a workshop. Okay then, so it was up to her. Silently, she climbed the stairs and went up to the third floor where there were just two doors in a tiny hallway. There was another staircase on the other end of the hall.

The physical impossibility of this place was going to give her a headache. She opened Grantaire’s door. Courfeyrac was asleep in the bed but the other person wasn’t Enjolras.

Enjolras was a toddler and this person was an adult. She tried to see if there was another lump in the bed but when she took a step closer, the floor creaked and it woke Courfeyrac up.

He opened his eyes and he whispered, “fuck why not Grantaire,” followed shortly by, “well no that’s fucking weird”.

The other person moaned a little and stretched and Courfeyrac froze as if that’d make this better. Enjolras froze a moment later as his eyes fluttered open and stared at him. They lay there staring at each other for a moment before Courfeyrac apparently had enough of the tension—because it wasn’t even a sexual tension is was more of a ‘why the shit are we so close together kind of tension’. “Enjolras?”

Éponine blinked in shock, okay. So, of _course_ they’d be involved in weird ass magic.

“Where am I?” The man who was apparently Enjolras said slowly.

“R’s bedroom.”

“And why are we in Grantaire’s bedroom?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Enjolras’ expression went blank and he sat up, pulling the blankets with him. Courfeyrac had no choice but to follow him or lose the warmth.

“Well, the thing is…you sort of turned yourself into a toddler.”

“A what?”

“A toddler. A three year old to be exact.”

“Let’s just forget this ever happened okay.”

“No, we have to talk about it because you made us adopt a dog you said was cursed and you told everyone your real name.”

“Oh.”

“Also you said you liked Grantaire more than me, but you did cry for a few hours when you realized you missed my birthday so I guess it evens out.”

“I missed your birthday?”

“Don’t worry, we celebrated it a few days later.”

“Courfeyrac,” Enjolras hissed and then he noticed Éponine in the doorway.

“Jehan sent me to check on you,” she said quickly and Courfeyrac squinted at her.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh--right. I’m Grantaire’s sister. I, um, got here last night.” This got the cake for the strangest way she had ever met someone in her entire life.

“Grantaire’s sister?” Enjolras asked and then climbed out of bed, swept past her and headed down the stairs.

“He’s not here,” she said half to Enjolras’ back, half to Courfeyrac who was taking his time getting out of Grantaire’s bed. “He’s gone to Cosette, our sister.”

“I’ve met Cosette.” He said and then looked out Grantaire's window. “We’re about twenty minutes away from Upper Folding.”  

“That looks out over the Waste?”

“Yeah,” and then he shepherded her down the stairs. They reached the top of the final staircase the same time Enjolras reached the bottom.

“Enjolras?”

Enjolras stopped on the bottom step as he recognized the blatantly amused tone in Jehan’s voice.

“You’re back.” Combeferre sighed as she emerged from the workshop.

Immediately Orsino darted out from the pantry and started to yip and snap at Enjolras, running in frantic circles around him, tiny legs waddling. He looked down and raised an eyebrow.

Courfeyrac instantly went down the stairs and scooped it up. It didn’t squirm but continued to bark at Enjolras. “You and Cosette named it Orsino! You demanded we keep it!”

“Well he’s cursed so…”

“Yeah you said he was cursed. Who would ever curse such a cute little thing?” Courfeyrac cooed at the dog and the dog in turned licked his face.

“Put it down, I know how to break it.”

Éponine cautiously went down the stairs, edged around Enjolras who stood with his palm open overtop of the dog and went to stand by Combeferre. She raised her eyebrows at her and Éponine laughed under her breath.

The room crackled with electricity and behind her, Jehan put his book down. A bright white light shot out from the dog and Éponine shielded her eyes. When she lowered her hand a man was sitting on the floor. He wore threadbare, crumpled clothes. His hair was a bright, messy amber and his wide eyes were blue. The man had more freckles than Éponine had ever seen on a single person and a scar under his right eye.

**_“_ ** Grantaire’s gone after Cosette!” He shouted and then froze, realizing he was, in fact, human again.

“He’s human?” Jehan asked and both Courfeyrac and Marius blushed furiously. Jehan chuckled but said nothing else.

“Cosette?” Enjolras asked.

“Our sister.” Éponine told him and then, seeing his confused expression, added, “My and Grantaire’s sister.”

Enjolras looked to him blankly for a moment and then his face drained of color. “Oh god. How long did you say I was a toddler for?”

“Two weeks.”

“Two _weeks_?” Enjolras looked horrified and Combeferre stepped forward to put her hand on his arm.

“What’s wrong?”

Éponine felt her pulse quicken, “I wanted to go after Grantaire this morning but the others convinced me to let him go. Is he in danger?”

“Not immediate. But he _is_ under that curse.”

“If you say eldest of three.” she warned.

“Of course not. He did it to himself and I've been trying to break it but…”

“It backfired. Lamarque was ready to strangle you.” Courfeyrac spoke quietly, as if Enjolras had just confirmed their suspicions.

Enjolras’ eyes went wide and his cheeks went faintly pink, “You took me to see Lamarque.” Courfeyrac gave an offhanded little shrug and Jehan laughed. Enjolras narrowed his eyes and shook it off, “Okay so update me. What’s going on?”

Combeferre put a hand on her arm and led her into the dining room where there was now a basket of baked goods. Enjolras followed them and sat himself down by the food.

“Is this from Bahorel?” Éponine asked, from the corner of her eye she could see Courfeyrac talking to the man who had previously been their dog. He was pale faced and shaking a little and he _knew_ Cosette. He knew she was in danger.  

“I think he’s trying to bribe you.” Jehan said, putting his book down. The cover only had braille on it so she couldn’t tell what he was reading.

“I’ve already said I’d do it.”

Courfeyrac came over with the man and sat him next to Éponine, who tried to offer him a kind smile. He handed him a danish from the basket and he nearly cried.

“Are you okay?” Éponine asked him as he slowly picked at the pastry.

“I’ve been a dog for a while. My name’s Marius, by the way.”

“Éponine. What kind of danger is my sister in.”  

 

* * *

 

 

Grantaire had left at first light. If someone had found Éponine, it wouldn't be long until they found Cosette as well. He knew both she and Lamarque were powerful but they were a trainee and an old woman. She’d be much safer in the castle.

Upper Folding was quiet in the mid afternoon lull, a gentle breeze coaxed him forward as he ignored the way his legs ached. Soon he was going to stop walking the length of Folding Valley.

He passed by a cafe where two women talked with their hands clasped together overtop of the table. Éponine had been attacked, Cosette was in danger, his father was missing, Bossuet was missing,Enjolras was still a fucking toddler, Combeferre and Courfeyrac and--that had been Cosette at the cafe table.

Backtracking quickly, he marched up to the table without a second thought, “Excuse me, can I speak with Cosette for a moment?”

The woman eyed him warily but Cosette’s glare was near lethal. “Who are you?”

Grantaire froze and then--he had borrowed Feuilly’s cloak, the one that disguised him and prevented his touch from inflicting third degree burns. “Oh—right. Uh—could we maybe talk in private?”

“Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of my mother.”

“Mother—“ Grantaire gasped, eyes on the woman seated across from her. She had short blond hair and the same kind blue eyes as Cosette but it couldn’t be.

Cosette squinted at him and then very slowly asked, “Grantaire?”

“I ruined your doll with juice and you cried for a week even after Ultime got you a new one. Éponine punched me in the eye.”

Cosette stood so abruptly, a tea cup spilled over. She threw her hands around Grantaire and her hug threatened to choke him. “Where have you been?”

Grantaire gently pried her off of him. Cosette’s mother watched the pair warily but remained where she was. “It’s not important. Éponine was attacked last night--she’s okay but that means you’re not safe here.”

“No it doesn't.” His sister said sharply, “I'm perfectly safe here but where’s Éponine?”

“Home.” Grantaire said and then forcibly corrected himself at the shocked look on Cosette’s face, “the castle.”

Cosette glanced to her mother and then back to Grantaire, “We’re renting a carriage and going to the castle. I have to see her. Was she hurt?”

Grantaire assured her Éponine was fine, Cosette’s mother, who she introduced as Fantine, forced half her sandwich on him and then Cosette had them rushing to find someone willing to drive them through the wastes in search of a moving castle.

It turned out the first person she asked “owed her a favor” and was all too willing to allow Grantaire to give him weak directions through the hills. Cosette’s smile scared him some days, he didn't think there were limits to what she was capable of.

“I do feel bad about leaving without telling Lamarque but she’s not expecting me back until supper. Plus I asked Francis to run over and let her know. I think she knew when she saw me off before. Did any of your friends say she was clairvoyant? I feel like she can see the future some days.” Cosette worried her hands in her lap and then she launched into a story from their childhood.

Fantine listened with sad eyes and a tired smile, not saying much, just allowing Cosette to fill up the gaping hole in their relationship.

Grantaire didn't know if he was surprised or not, Cosette’s mother coming back from the dead. He kept an eye on her as Cosette poured her heart out, laughing, her eyes shining. What were the chances she’d show up the day after their sister was attacked?

“That your castle?” Their driver asked suddenly and Grantaire had to squint to see it on the horizon.

“You can drop us off--” Grantaire began but Cosette swatted his leg and their driver didn't let them out until they were parallel to the castle. It was still a hundred feet away from the road but it was fine. It’d give them a chance to see them coming--just in case.

Cosette paid their driver from a heavy coin purse and then led the way to the castle.

“It looks quite menacing.” She said lightly, “I hope it’s not the same inside.”

“No, it’s--nice. I have a room and--”

“You have a room? Not only are you staying inside the castle but you have your own room? My own brother.” She put a hand on her chest as if deeply betrayed.

“It’s only temporary.”

“Your own room isn't temporary.”

Grantaire ignored her. The castle sat peaceful and still which was hopefully a good sign. He opened the door to the sensation of sudden silence, which probably wasn't.

He glanced to Cosette who went ahead of her mother and ghosted her fingers over his arm as the three climbed the stairs. Immediately, sound rushed back into the room as all his friends tried to talk over one another.

“Where have you been?”

“Your sister’s my sister!”

“Are you hurt?”

“Please tell me you weren’t there.”  

Grantaire threw his hands up in an attempt to suppress the verbal onslaught, “What the shit are you talking about? Who’s watching Enjolras?”

“Actually, who _is_ watching Enjolras. He’s going to do something fucking stupid and I’m not getting him back just to watch him—“

Grantaire blinked and then gasped, “He’s back?”

“If you hadn’t left so early this morning you’d have been there!” Courfeyrac shouted, clearly overwhelmed with whatever the hell was going on.

“If I hadn't left so early I’d have been here for a lot of things. What the hell is going on?” he snapped back.

Courfeyrac looked past Grantaire to Cosette and Fantine. He sighed in relief as his face paled, “Thank god, when we heard we thought you were there too and--”

Cosette flinched back, “What? You thought I was where?”

“Lamarque’s.”

“What happened.” her face went perfectly blank and she took a step nearer her mother.

“Cosette--” Courfeyrac began and Jehan slipped his hand into his for moral support. “There was an attack. She didn’t make it.”

Cosette’s face went ashen as she took a step back into her mother's arms, “I was supposed to be there! She sent me out on an errand and my mother found me and--” She took a deep shuddering breath, “If we had gone back before coming here then…”

“Cosette. There’s nothing you could have done.” he assured her.

Combeferre shifted her weight, crossed her arms and then uncrossed them again. Her face was pale and she pushed her glasses up,  “If you’d have gone back become coming here you’d have only found her before Enjolras, Éponine and I.”

“You found her?” she whispered, tears filling her eye as she looked to Combeferre.

“What were you three doing there?” Grantaire demand, “You knew it wasn’t safe.”

“Why wasn’t it safe?” his sister demanded, rounding on him even as tears started welling in her eyes.

“Éponine was attacked last night.” he repeated.

Cosette went over to the table and sat down, then her head shot up, “Wait. You said she was with you. Éponine was here?”

Combeferre nodded but spoke before Grantaire could ask where she went, “We went to Lamarque’s looking for you two. Éponine was so worried.”

“We all were.” Joly threw in and when Grantaire got a look at her, holy shit did she look terrible. He took a step towards her but she shook her head and nodded to Cosette. Musichetta had her arms wrapped around Joly and Grantaire nodded. He stepped back next to Cosette who leaned against him.

Fantine hovered by the doorway and Feuilly and Bahorel were by the stairs. A ginger kid Grantaire didn’t know was sitting at the dining room table and it was he who spoke next,  “They want to make the ultimate sorcerer. They want to figure out how to create the ultimate sorcerer and then create an army of them”

“What?” Grantaire asked because, _what_.

Cosette gasped at the sight of the ginger kid and he sheepishly waved, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I was wondering where you went!” she whispered faintly.

“We think that’s where Bossuet could be” Musichetta said as she ignored their exchange, her voice small, “they took her and took her apart for her magic.”

“Her magic—she doesn’t have control of it—she—“ Joly buried her face in Musichetta’s shoulder. She wrapped her arms around her, she looked tired, as if they’d been dealing with this for hours while he was with Cosette and Fantine.

Footsteps sounded upstairs, “Who’s here?” Enjolras called loudly and Grantaire's heart did something weird when he heard his voice for the first time in weeks, but it was Éponine who came down them. She took one look at Cosette shaking, tears falling from her eyes and raced over, pulling both her and Grantaire into a hug.

“I thought you were there--I thought you had been taken!” she sobbed, squeezing them both close.

“We’re alright.” Cosette promised and Éponine released them.

When Grantaire turned around Enjolras stood a foot in front of him and he didn’t think--he just threw his arms around him and hugged him. “You don’t know how weird that was.”

“Believe me, I do.” Enjolras hugged him back and somewhere one of their asshole friends sniggered.

“So. Éponine.” Cosette said, her voice shaking a little, “I’d like to introduce you to my mother.”

Fantine stepped closer and Éponine openly gaped at her before looking around the room wildly, she didn’t find what she was looking for and turned back to Cosette and Grantaire. “Gavroche is my brother. He knows Azelma.”

Grantaire looked to her and sort of just shook his head, why the hell not.

But Eponine wasn’t done with just Gavroche, “When I went back to the bakery, Isabeau told me that he met Papa in _prison_  and that his name--his real name--is Jean Valjean.”

“What about Uncle--” Cosette began but Éponine shot her a look that said she should _not_ be worrying about that right now and she nodded, “Right...so I guess the guard’s after Papa because he’s hiding from what he was jailed for?”

“Stealing bread to feed his sister and her kids.”

“Oh.” Grantaire gasped looking to her, and then glanced to Joly who was watching them all like their family drama was the only thing keeping her from breaking out into tears. “Uh--I don’t know if I mentioned it but our father’s really my uncle--so he was arrested trying to save me.”

“You’ve mentioned before that he adopted you so I figured something like that was going on.” She gave him a small smile that he returned and then he pulled Enjolras across the room to where Combeferre stood with Courfeyrac, “I want to know if Fantine’s telling the truth. It’s too convenient.” he whispered, refusing to look back at his sisters.

“Of course.” Enjolras nodded seriously while the other two both looked a little overwhelmed with information and, yeah, Grantaire understood that feeling.

 

* * *

Two long painful days later, Grantaire still wasn’t sure if Fantine was really Cosette’s mother or not--there were some petals that needed to steep for another afternoon and then there was the whole problem about needing drops of blood and no one had informed either women they were doing the spell yet--but he had bigger things to worry about.

“The people love--loved her.” Enjolras corrected himself and then continued his speech which he was delivering to the others as they got ready to go to Lamarque’s funeral. Éponine and Cosette were seated in the dining room with Fantine and Marius who were the only ones besides Grantaire who weren’t going (minus Musichetta who had gone to work before the sun had risen). Cosette had put up a fight at first but Éponine had convinced her it was too dangerous.

Too bad it had only worked on Cosette.

“The people won’t remain silent. They won’t support a king who’ll slaughter innocent people just to get more power for his army. Lamarque will be a catalyst. The king will lose the people. We’re going to put an end to this fighting.”

“Listen, I honestly don’t give a fuck about inciting a rebellion against the king. Going to her funeral is basically forcing me to start planning your own.” Grantaire told him for about the twelfth time that morning.

“Well, you’ll get a group discount because we’re all going.” Bahorel straightened his suit in the window and Grantaire swallowed the urge to scream.

“No.”

“Yep.” Courfeyrac bounded down the stairs and kissed Grantaire’s cheek as he went by.

“The first thing I’m doing to the castle once you’re all dead is building a garage.”

“Grantaire,” Combeferre said dryly from the doorway, Enjolras glanced back once as he stepped out but Grantaire couldn’t read his expression, “if you’re able to use your magic to build a garage my spirit will come back to help you.”

Joly grabbed Grantaire’s arm before he could react. He looked down at her and the purple dress she was sporting. Purple, not black. “I’m staying with you.” she said with a tired smile.

“Thank fuck one of you has common sense.” Grantaire shouted the last bit but Courfeyrac, who was the last of them to leave, just waved and shut the door.

“They’re going in disguise.” Joly offered, obviously thinking she was being helpful.

“When it’s been proven time and again that the guard can see through them.” A couple of them were using cloaks while a couple others were using potions and spells. Jehan in particular was almost worryingly enthusiastic about his potion that’d turn him into a raven. Courfeyrac was going to let him stay on his shoulder and he was almost excited about the sight the pair of them were going to make.

“They’ll be okay. Come on, let’s go sit with your sisters, their relatives and the dog.”

“I’m actually your prince.” Marius admitted and the entire room froze.

Grantaire turned around and headed towards the door. Joly grabbed him. “Let them mourn.”

“They’ll come straight back once they realize the reason for the war is sitting in their dining room. They can mourn when it won’t get them killed. They can mourn when it’s not also a campaign to gather support.”

“We did survive without you, you know.” She told him, a wry smile on her lips.

“Honestly, I’m starting to think it was all a fluke.”

Joly dragged Grantaire to the table and Éponine straightened her back, she had been worrying her lip all morning--Gavroche had gone with the others and had vanished at dawn to ‘get ready’. “Okay.” she looked between Marius and Fantine, “Tell us what you know. Tell us where we stand.”

“Éponine, we’re not getting involved.”

“We are. We’re right in the middle of all of it and I want to know where we stand.”

“I was captured by the Guard shortly after leaving Cosette in the Thénardier’s care. I escaped during the recent explosion. My magic is damaged but I tried to do tracking spells that would lead me to Cosette and...I found her.”

“What did they do to you for all those years?”

Fantine looked wretched, “Not all of it was spent in a cell. I trained witches and wizards, I taught them how to fight, how to draw out their magic.”

“So losing you was a big blow for them?”

Fantine nodded and shrugged at once, “there are others who can teach what I did but I was there the longest.”

“My grandfather has been doing this for--”

“Years.” Fantine said quietly

Marius nodded, “my father was one of the first. I didn't know him. He was in the castle with me but he was locked away they--”

“Drew his magic out of him until he wasted away.” Fantine said as if she had been there. She probably had.

The Prince took this information and impressively ignored it. “When I found this out, I left. I searched for anyone who would listen and then one day I met the wrong person and he turned me into a dog.”

“And what a fucking annoying thing you made.” Grantaire pat his hand and Marius looked at him wearily.

“I liked you.” Cosette said and Grantaire’s stomach sank as Marius blushed. Joly snicked as the blush was echoed on Cosette’s cheek. Leave it to Cosette to develop a crush on the goddamn Prince.

“Did he know you ran away?” Joly tapped her fingers on the table in front of her.

Marius nodded.

“So...he lied about the reason we went to war. He lied. He just wanted more power. He wanted to flaunt what he could do, have a reason to do it.”

Marius swallowed, pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes for a moment before looking her evenly in the eye,  “I need to stop him.”

Fantine looked to Cosette and then Éponine and Grantaire, “I can help.”

“We will too. We’ve been trying to stop this for ages.”

“Joly…” He didn't want him to see her hurt but just like he wouldn't give up on his father, she wouldn't give up on Bossuet.

Several long hours later Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Jehan returned. They all looked exponentially exhausted and from the corner of his eye he watched as Fantine and Cosette both made the same aborted motion to go comfort them. Éponine rounded on them in their place, “Where’s Gavroche?”

“The others are checking in on what everyone’s saying.” Combeferre spoke in a way that Grantaire knew by now was meant to be reassuring but his sister just sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair. Combeferre pulled her into a hug and Éponine went willingly. Grantaire watched as Combeferre spoke to her quietly for a moment and then looked away before either woman could catching him spying. The two of them had gotten very comfortable with each other very fast--Éponine had only been here for a couple of days. She, Cosette and Fantine were staying in his room.  

Enjolras dropped to the table and put his head in his hands. Fantine gently pat his back and he just sighed.

“Someone pour me a drink, I want to forget that ever happened.” Jehan sighed before sprawling out on the bench under the windows. “And, by the way, by somebody I mean Grantaire.”

Cosette raised an eyebrow but Grantaire got up and pulled a bottle of scotch from the pantry. He poured him a double shot and then pressed it into his hand.

“Thanks,” Jehan tipped the cup back and downed it in one go without even bothering to ask what the hell he was drinking. He held out the cup for a refill but Grantaire just took it and walked back into the pantry to put the bottle back.  Almost immediately, there was a knock on the front door.

“That better not be the reason you shorted me about five drinks.” Jehan hissed.

“Who the hell is knocking?” Enjolras groaned without lifting his head.

The knock was slightly fainter than it should have been and it echoed slightly more to the right of the pantry, “It’s coming from the Kingsbury door,” Grantaire called.  

Enjolras looked up sharply and it was Courfeyrac who opened the door. There was silence for a moment, Combeferre hovered in the doorway, ready to shut the others in the dining room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Courfeyrac asked, not alarmed or angry, just genuinely confused.

Combeferre turned to Enjolras looking like she just ate Joly’s cooking, “It’s Montparnasse.”

Enjolras groaned but Grantaire shut the pantry door and went into the other room. Sure enough, the man was standing at the top of the stairs.

Montparnasse’s eyes lit up, “Grantaire. So this is where you’ve been hiding out. No wonder my tracking spells weren’t working.”

“You know the Wizard of the Waste?” Enjolras asked, annoyed but not surprised.

“I didn’t know I did.” he replied truthfully but Montparnasse being the Wizard of the Waste made sense in a _of course he is_ kind of way. He was nearly as feared as the Moving Castle.

The smirk that formed in Montparnasse’s face made it all too clear that he was delighted by this turn of events, “Who did you think my secret weapon was?”

“A drink isn’t your secret weapon.”

“Grantaire.” Combeferre hissed, looking like she was ready to strangle him.

“What?” He asked, hands out in front of him. He didn’t think the others would let her but she was still probably the most powerful person in the room so he wasn’t taking chances.

“I don’t have time for you. Enjolras, you deal with him.” She turned back to Montparnasse as Enjolras and Grantaire shared a glance that was half amused, half alarmed “What do you want?”

His grin spread across his face, “I just so happen to be on the trail of the missing prince and it’s led me straight to your doorstep. What are the odds?”

Combeferre’s expression soured but she didn’t look surprised, “What do you want with him?”

“I need an audience with the king and he’s the only way I can assure it.” He walked over to the workbench and rummaged around with a light touch and a cool expression. “Huh. Who’s doing the paternity test?” he asked casually and then, looking between Cosette and Fantine, corrected himself, “Maternity?”

“What?” Cosette asked, her arms crossed over her chest but then her gaze landed on Grantaire and his guilty expression. Her eyes widened as she sucked in an offended breath but he spoke before she could.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Fantine, I do--but...it’s too convenient that you showed up when you did.”

Fantine shook her head, “No, I’m not upset at all. I can feel the protective spells weaved into this building,I know where I can and can’t go. I’m absolutely willing to go along with anything you want, I’d expect nothing less from you.”

“I was casting spells looking for my father, they probably led you to me.” Cosette immediately jumped in with an explanation and Grantaire wanted to so badly accept there was nothing malicious about Fantine. But, she had admitted it herself, she was one of the key players in what they were all trying to stop.

“Let’s...not do this in front of him.” Combeferre said and Montparnasse laughed darkly.

“Best not to do it in front of her either, she’ll take the information she needs and turn it against you.”

“Let’s just not.” Enjolras’ voice rang out sharply, silencing him.  

Joly tugged at Grantaire's sleeve and whispered into his ear, “They used to date.”

“Who used to date?” he blurted out a bit too loudly and Combeferre’s glare said enough. He raised an eyebrow, judging the hell out of her and she turned her head with a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Well,” Montparnasse shrugged, “if you want to do a paternity test as well, just let me know.”

Éponine was across the room before Grantaire could register what he had said, “What the _fuck_ do you mean by that? Do you have my father?” She grabbed him by the shirt collar and pinned him to the wall. Montparnasse, for a moment, looked like his soul had straight up left his body and Combeferre, for a heartbeat, looked like she was having a religious experience.

Montparnasse struggled with his words and then Combeferre put a hand on Éponine’s arm. She was looking at his sister but her words were for Montparnasse, “Is it your spell that’s hiding him from us?”

“Of course it is. I was at the bar when guards came for him and I hid him.”

“Where is he.” Éponine demanded, her grip on the wizard didn’t flinch. Combeferre removed her arm, she looked torn between making sure she didn’t strangle him and just letting it happen.

“He said he was done running from the past. I don’t know where he is, he went off with some officer who apparently had been on his trail for a while but had a change of heart when he found out just how much the law had been twisted into something wicked. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t bumped into them yet. I just did what I could to protect him.”

“Well you didn’t. All you did was ensure that we can’t help him.”

“For which he’d probably thank me.”

“I am not my father.”

“No.” Montparnasse agreed, “You’re not.”

Éponine dropped him.

Marius cleared his throat and then walked into the other room so he could see Montparnasse, “Well. If you’re here to turn me back into a dog, I’m sorry but that’s not going to happen.”

Silence reigned for a long moment. Grantaire tried to read in the other’s faces if they knew he had been the one to turn Marius into a dog but then realized at their shocked expression that, oh yeah, they hadn’t even known Marius was the _prince_. He threw faked surprise onto his face when Enjolras glanced at him but, seeing as Enjolras glared, he was too slow.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you’d have just gone back to the castle with me.” Montparnasse sighed, not surprised at all to see him.

“I wasn’t ready.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Are you ready now?”

“People are dying. If my departure was the catalyst for the start then my return can be catalyst for the end.

Everything happened in a rush after that.

The first thing that happened was they there was a tremendous argument over whether or not sending Marius back to the King was a good idea. After all, the king wanted the war and was using Marius as an excuse to continue it. No one, not even Marius, knew how he was going to react upon his very public return (for that’s what they were planning: a very, very public return). The argument was settled only after Jehan went around tapping everyone on the arm so he could get a flash on their future (Grantaire got a ‘gross I didn’t need to see that’ that had Courfeyrac and Joly howling with laughter, Enjolras got a ‘oh shit, but you’re okay so...’ and Combeferre got a ‘holy shit Combeferre, holy _shit_ ’ and he refused to explain any of them). Going to the castle won out because, as Enjolras passionately argued, just the sight of Marius in the capitol would weaken the king’s power considerably.

The second thing was that Combeferre decided to finish the maternity detection spell: Fantine was Cosette’s mother and Grantaire was devastated to realize that his uneasiness didn’t go away at all upon learning it.

Musichetta arrived with Bahorel and Feuilly and then immediately left with Fantine as they started planning how they were going to get Marius to the castle. Cosette demanded she go with him and the others agreed because she'd be safe with the Prince’s protection.

Grantaire didn’t believe it for a second but Enjolras started explaining how they were going to go as back up--of course they weren’t going to let them go in there alone--and he swallowed his uneasiness. All these months of hiding and they were going to waltz right up to the king. He almost expected their father to show up and drag them all home like they were children again.

In fact, he was sort of praying for that to happen.

Montparnasse came over to him in the middle of Enjolras and Marius laying out a battle plan for once they were inside,  “Combeferre's thinks your curse is that you can’t use your magic and that you’re the one who put the curse on yourself. Like Enjolras did when he magicked himself a toddler..”

Grantaire stared at Montparnasse like he was insane and didn’t even bother asking how he knew about Enjolras’ curse,  “that’s impossible.”

“You put a bit of magic into every drink you make.”

“Ha ha very funny.” He deadpanned and then turned away, “keep my sister safe or I'm going to burn your clothes and disfigure your face.”

“Don’t worry.” Jehan said and when Grantaire looked over to him, he saw that Courfeyrac had his arms around him, scowling something fierce, “I’m going with them.”

He just had to trust that they’d be okay inside the castle and he hated it.

 

* * *

Cosette held onto Marius’ hand as they walked into the throne room to meet the King. Jehan walked serenely next to her and Montparnasse kept a few paces behind them all, no doubt planning to use them as cover if he decided he didn’t like the direction the meeting was going in.

Marius was well known in the castle, which, honestly was a bit of a relief. She watched as maids gossiped in the hall and, good, word would get out that Marius was here. The reason for the fighting had just returned home. Once word got out, the King would lose support of the people.

“Marius.” King Gillenormand said, smiling warmly down at his grandson. “I see you’ve returned at last.”

“Grandfather, why are you using my leaving as reason to go to war?”

This was decidedly _not_ what they planned. Jehan shut his eyes for a moment, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Cosette couldn’t really fault him though, if her Papa had done this, she’d demand an explanation as well.

“Is this why you’re here? You’ve come to stop the war? Not to apologize for acting like a rash child?”

The sneer on his face prompted Cosette to speak up, “We’re here because the fighting has to stop. Too many innocent people have had their lives ripped apart.”

“Euphrasie Tholomyès, how like your mother you are.” The King said looking directly at Cosette and all she could think was _oh no_.

“Grandfather,” Marius began at once, “I’m afraid you’re confused, this is Cosette--”

“I know who she is. I knew both her parents well. Fantine was with us until a little while ago. Has she found you? You were all she ever talked about.” He lifted a hand and the guards that stood on either side of the room raised their guns threateningly.

Coming with Marius suddenly felt like the most idiotic thing she had ever done. Her maman was going to be terrified, her papa, wherever he was, was going to be furious. She was going to be the reason the planned failed. She was going to be the reason her brother and the others were going to have to break in and try to rescue them.

Jehan casually bumped the back of Montparnasse’s hand and the color drained from his face. He reached next to him, grabbed Cosette’s hand and tugged her backwards, closer to him.

“Grandfather.” Marius said again, trying to stop the situation from spiraling out of control.

“Seize them, toss them in the dungeon until I decide what to do with them.”

Montparnasse immediately sprang into action, drawing the attention of the guards. Marius stepped forward, still trying to reason with Gillenormand. Cosette’s attention was torn between the two of them. Her heart was with the boy who had knocked into her in Upper Folding but she didn’t want to see Montparnasse hurt either, he was on their side in all of this after all.

A court wizard made a few gestures Cosette had never seen before and Montparnasse’s hands dropped lifeless to his sides.

Marius, who had seen this and the way it had made his grandfather smirk, rounded on him, “You enjoy this! What won’t you do to keep this power? Will you have me murdered like my father before me? Is that all I’ll be--”

Gillenormand slapped Marius across the face and Jehan lunged at the king. He kicked Marius clumsily out of the way and just jumped on him. Almost immediately, a soldier stuck up upside the head with his gun and Jehan crumpled to the floor. The fight left Marius but Cosette was outraged.

Arms wrapped around her and she managed to stomp on the poor guard’s foot once before she was thrown over his shoulder and carried from the room.

Cosette screamed the entire way down to the cellars in a most unladylike fashion. She tried to think of a spell or something she could use to slow them down but everything she knew required her to write something down or needed ingredients. When she was out of here she was going to have Grantaire’s friends teach her how to be useful.

She was thrown into a cell with Jehan, still unconscious, with the other two across the way from them. The guards quickly left as Marius and Montparnasse began trying to figure out what spell they had laid on Montparnasse.

She turned around to see to Jehan, he was bleeding from his temple from where he had been hit with the butt of the gun and his ankle was already starting to turn purple around the cuts and swelling.

Cosette knelt down next to him and ripped some fabric off of her skirt to dab at the cut on his head. He breathed in sharply and blearily opened his eyes, “Well that went to shit spectacularly fast. Is Marius with us or is there still a bit of hope of us turning this around.”

“He’s here.” Cosette said and Jehan let his head thump back against the stone floor. She made him hold the fabric at his temple, it wasn’t bad, just bleeding and then she went to look at his ankle.

“Is it bad?” Jehan groaned, his head still tilted back, “It’s not bad. I’d be able to tell.”

“It’s just sprained I think. And you’re bleeding.” She ripped more material from her skirt and gently went about wrapping it. Jehan hissed and she apologized quietly.

“Did you bite his face?” Marius asked suddenly and Cosette whipped her head around to look at him. He was looking at Jehan, who stilled.

“Someone pulled me away before I could reach him.”

“Did you mean to bite his face?” she asked quietly.

“It wasn’t my plan but it wasn’t off the table either.” He said darkly as Cosette finished bandaging his ankle and helped him to sit up.

“I don’t--” Cosette began, putting her hands on the bars so she could see Montparnasse and Marius. “Who did he say my father was?”

“Félix Tholomyès.” Marius began slowly, “He was the head of the experimental division. He and my father. Then my father saw how terrible it was and…”

“Georges Pontmercy became a test subject.” Montparnasse said sharply and Marius flinched before nodding.

“Tholomyès betrayed my grandfather and sold the secrets to High Norland. He’s head of their army now.”

“My father is the head of the High Norland army?” Cosette asked, thinking only of her papa and where he could be. “I guess that’s why he threw us down here so quickly.”

“Does he know you even exist?”

“I don’t know. Maman didn’t mention him during the...four days I’ve known her. I don’t think I’ve told my brother and sister yet that Cosette is only my nickname.”

“I can’t believe what a royal cock up this was.” Jehan sighed and then laid back down onto the ground.

She looked at him lying there with his eyes shut for a long moment before turning back to the other two, “What does it mean that the others haven’t intervened yet?”

“Don’t worry, Cosette, your brother and the others are okay. They just must not have realized we were thrown down here yet.” Marius said, his eyes earnest.

But the sick feeling in her stomach made it hard to believe him. After not being there for Lamarque she wanted to be part of this but...this was her fault.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Grantaire realized was that he was on the ground.

The second thing he realized is that they were supposed to be Cosette’s back up and so the fact that he was on the ground was a fucking problem.

He pushed himself up, wavered on his feet for a moment and then the sound of fighting washed over him.

They were in the courtyard in front of the palace, Courfeyrac was at his side, swearing under his breath. His hair was a mess and there was dirt on his face. “Get behind me.” he said through his clenched teeth and Grantaire sidestepped behind him just as he caught sight of Enjolras.

The others were all around Grantaire, Bahorel was a few feet to his left and Combeferre was crouched behind an overturned flower cart.

Enjolras was surrounded by members of the Guard twenty feet away from them.

“Enjolras--” Grantaire cried and Courfeyrac elbowed him between the rips to keep him from running forward.

“Oh hey,” Bahorel mused, “Grantaire’s _not_ dead.”

“No--go!” Enjolras cried, before being hit with a spell and crumpling to the ground.

White noise erupted around him. Dimly, he was aware of the others shouting.

Guards hoisted Enjolras limp body up and Grantaire ran to stop them but Bahorel got in the way. He wrested him back, away from the Guards and Enjolras. Grantaire kicked and clawed, this wasn’t right, he was in danger, _Cosette_ was in danger.

The air sparked with electricity and then Courfeyrac was there to help Grantaire get away--no--he was helping Bahorel drag him away.

“They have Enjolras--” he protested, but he could tell by the drawn, panicked looks on their faces that they knew this perfectly well.

“We have to go.” Courfeyrac said, his voice far off.

Bahorel said something else but it was drowned out by a bright light.

Immediately Grantaire was back on the mountain side watching the blast heading towards Combeferre. He remembered Bahorel’s ashen face, the way his voice shook as he said the spell was fatal, that even the slightest brush of it was fatal.

He remembered the way his body caught fire and he saw the others around him.

If they stayed they’d all be killed.

He couldn’t see Enjolras anymore.

He gave up fighting his friends and they all rushed back through the square. People were screaming, hiding as they raced past. The Guard didn’t care, they were focused on chasing them, spells flew wildly, hitting shop fronts and sending glass shattering to the cobblestone.

The streets were filled with people who were knocked aside and Grantaire couldn’t think about what they were leaving in their wake.

They turned the corner, a woman screamed, and Combeferre slammed into his back as he froze: they had been standing in the courtyard, he and Enjolras had been arguing.

Cosette had screamed.

Cosette had screamed, he had rushed towards the castle in a blind panic and was immediately knocked to the ground.

He had blown their cover.

It was his fault.

Combeferre pushed him forward and Courfeyrac grabbed his wrist, dragging him along.

It was his fault.

Enjolras had crumpled to the ground because he had fucked up.

They reached the magic shop and piled inside. Was the guard still on their heels? Had they seen? Grantaire twisted around but Bahorel shoved him forward up the stairs and he couldn’t see.

“What hit him--who saw what hit him?” Courfeyrac was shouting and Combeferre sank into a chair, resting her head on her knees.

“Get up.” Bahorel hissed in her direction, knocking several vials of potions off the workbench as he pulled a fat spell book from the top shelf.

Grantaire looked out the window that looked out onto the Kingsbury street, he didn’t see the Guard coming down on them but several people were looking towards the shop with alarm.

The wheel by the door spun and Musichetta and Fantine burst through the front door, “What on earth did you do?” Musichetta gasped, throwing her arms around Joly, who had stayed behind just in case and was therefore as oblivious to what had happened as she was, and hugging her tightly. “I thought we weren’t doing anything until--”

“Where’s Cosette?” Fantine demanded.

“With Marius and Jehan.” Courfeyrac said without looking up from where he was drawing complicated symbols onto the floor.

“What the hell happened?” Musichetta’s voice was strained and it shook, “Irma just told me the guard was taking Enjolras to Lamarque’s.”

The room stilled and then burst into life again. “We have to disconnect the Kingsbury door.” Courfeyrac chalk marks on the floor were hard and he snapped the piece of chalk in his hand in half with a curse.

“Combeferre--we can’t do this without you, get up--” Joly begged, overwhelmed.

“How did they know Enjolras was being taken--”

“They’re in the Guard!” Musichetta nearly screamed at Grantaire, “Where you do think I’ve been all this time! I work as a maid in the guard barracks!”

“Cosette’s birth father betrayed the crown--he’s leading the Strangia army--” Fantine gasped, her face white as a sheet and she sunk down onto a chair. “I should have told her.”

“The Guard’s going to burst in here any second--they were right after us--they’re going to find us.” Bahorel spoke through clenched teeth as he had Jehan hold the book open and he started drawing symbols onto the walls.  

“Where’s Feuilly?” Joly asked as she grabbed Fantine and raced into the workroom.

They all were so preoccupied that they didn’t notice Grantaire slip from the castle.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire didn’t think, he just ran. If the Guard was tearing up magic users for their power then fuck being prepared, he just had to get there before they tore Enjolras apart.

He didn’t see what hit him at first, just the ground coming up to catch him. He lay on the ground winded and then pushed himself up, ready for a fight.

A scarecrow stared down at him.

“Are you kidding me?” he growled, pushing himself up and continuing towards the mountains.  The scarecrow hopped after him, hitting him with its wooden arm.

“Go away, Turnip Head!” Grantaire shouted, spinning around with his hand out as if to push it away. There was a scream that wasn’t him and then he blinked several times to confirm what he was seeing. A bald, dark skinned woman lay crumpled in a heap on the ground. She stared at Grantaire with a wild sort of confusion, one that almost bordered on happiness.

“You did it.”

“I what—“ Grantaire blurted out then he narrowed his eyes at her. There was a mole on her left temple that was bugging him for some reason.

Wait. Bald, green eyes, a mole on her left temple, cursed, wandering the Wastes.

“This is impossible.” Grantaire gasped, “You can’t be—“

“Um...yeah I was a human all along and you acted like a right ass to me--” she said, propped up on her elbows.

“No--you’re Bossuet.”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, “If you knew my name why did you just call me Turnip Head?”

“I didn’t know that was your name. I didn’t know Joly’s missing girlfriend was the fucking scarecrow that was stalking the shit out of me.”

“I wasn’t stalking!” she cried and then, “You know Joly?”

“She’s at the castle. The moving castle. A mile or two that way—“

“There’s no way I’m going to find it—“ She looked blankly in the direction he had pointed like she expected to be able to see it.

“Yes you will. Go. There’s some place I have to be.”

She stood calmly and looked him up and down, “You’re in trouble.”

“I have it under control.” Grantaire hissed and then started off again. He knew the waste like the back of his hand by this point, they were close to Upper Folding, they hadn’t moved very far since this morning.

“Yeah. Okay.” Bossuet scoffed, hurrying to keep up with him, unstable on her two feet.

“You can stop stalking me now that you’re human.”

She laughed darkly, “We both know that’s bullshit.”

Grantaire turned to glare at her but her words had been so matter-of-fact that it held no weight. “Come on.” He said instead, continuing towards town.

Bossuet walked silently at his side up and down several hills before glancing to him from the corner of her eye, “So. Who’re you? What’s going on? How do you know the beaus?”

“Joly and ‘Chetta?”

“Unless I’ve been dating someone else and never realized.”

“How’d you turn into a scarecrow?” He countered Bossuet drew in a breath and Grantaire prepared himself for a story.

“I was trying to spy on--”

“The King—“ he interrupted, she had probably worked with Musichetta in the guard barracks. She had probably been found out and Musichetta had been forced to report for work the next day. No wonder everyone was so stressed out the first time he met them. It had been the day after the explosion at the palace, if they thought she had been there when High Norland had attacked...    

“Who captured me, yeah. But none of his sorcerers could coax my magic out—it recoiled and hid itself. Then it sort of…exploded.”

“Literally?” Quickly, he edited his previous thought, maybe High Norland _hadn’t_ attacked the palace.

“Yeah.”

He glanced to her, “So…the attack on the palace?”

“Was an accident, yeah.”

“And then Cosette’s mother was able to escape and get her away when they attacked Lamarque.”

“Lamarque was attacked?” Bossuet gasped and Grantaire felt his stomach drop. Lamarque had mentioned her--Bossuet had been her student along with the others.

“She didn’t make it.”

“No.” Bossuet took a step back, shaking her head, her fists clenched, “They must have gone to her looking for me.”

“They were trying to get her to join them for months, they were after my sister who lived with her, the others think she could have been targeted because she taught all of you, we’ll never know the reason it happened.“ he grabbed her wrist and pulled her along with him. She seemed to remember his urgency, even though he hadn’t told her that they were after Enjolras yet, and continued walking.  

Bossuet shrugged, “A whole group of us were her students. I can’t believe….”

“Everyone but Joly, Musichetta and I went to her funeral.”

“Well.” Bossuet deadpanned, caught between touched and alarmed, “That’s certainly dangerous.”

“Preaching to the choir.” he sighed and then, just to rip the bandage off, “They have Enjolras at her house.”

Bossuet looked vaguely sick and her steps sped up, “The world’s gone mad since I’ve been sticks and straw.”

“How’d you turn into a scarecrow?”

“I think I fell. The next thing I knew I was a scarecrow.”

“And an ugly one at that.” Grantaire teased, remembering all the stories Joly had told him of her. He hadn’t exactly been pleasant to her and she had followed him without question just because he was in trouble.

Bossuet sighed and then nudged Grantaire and laughed, “I had just made it out of Kingsbury, there were people screaming and running all over. I fell and then the next thing I remember, I was alone and, wooden. Thanks for turning me back.”

“I’m not a wizard.” Grantaire tried to push Combeferre’s annoyance and Montparnasse’s insistence from his mind.

“Um, well you’ve got magic so…”

“That’s what everyone says but the thing is I _don’t_. Montparnasse says that I put magic in each drink I make, as if a gin and tonic could make him appear more menacing and Combeferre swears I’ve cursed myself.”

There was a lot Bossuet could have focused on in that sentence but what she chose was, “If we survive rescuing Enjolras, you’re making me a drink.”

“I’ll make you more than one.” Grantaire replied begrudgingly and the two continued towards town.

Upper Folding was quiet as they stalked through the center of town. Actually, Grantaire glance to Bossuet and she glanced uneasily back, it was a little _too_ quiet.

There wasn’t a single person in the streets.

They hurried their pace, Lamarque’s--or the mansion that used to belong to her, was right around the corner and--

A hand gripped his arm tightly and pulled him back. Grantaire spun around as a soft slap sounded—Joly was there and she had her hand over Bossuet’s mouth. Bossuet gave an excited little hop/dance and then she and Joly were hugging. After a moment, Joly pulled Grantaire into the hug as well.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. If anyone were to find you of course it’d be my best friend.” she whispered into his shoulder.

Grantaire smiled despite the situation, “She found me, actually. She’s the only reason the guards didn’t capture me and that I found the castle in the first place.”

Joly kissed Bossuet, “Of course you did, love. Now come on, I left Combeferre and Bahorel somewhere over here I think.”

“You left them?”

“Okay, I panicked and ran off when I saw the pair of you—they might try to curse me.”

“Bossuet, get behind me.” Grantaire said at once and she wasted no time in doing so.

Bahorel saw them first. His anger and relief at seeing Joly was quickly washed away by surprise when he noticed Grantaire. When he spotted Bossuet behind them, his eyebrows shot up comically and both Bossuet and Joly laughed. Bahorel whacked Combeferre to get her attention as she turned towards the sound of their laughter, her face perfectly blank.

“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” She hissed.

“I was a scarecrow and R changed me back. He wanted to come alone but I came with him anyway.”

Combeferre and Bahorel looked at Grantaire pointedly. He squirmed under their gaze.

Bahorel crossed his arms and decided the best way to counter that was with information of his own, “The King wants to create the ultimate sorcerer. Upper Folding is apparently in lockdown and it’s been in lockdown since shortly after the funeral. The dog Enjolras and Grantaire found is the missing prince.”

“You adopted a dog?” Bossuet asked and Grantaire could see what Joly saw in her.

“No, he adopted the missing prince.” Joly explained.

“Everyone just--shut up for a minute. Courfeyrac hasn’t done the signal yet.” Combeferre hissed, looking towards the sky.

“What signal?”

“He snuck closer to the house to see how many were in there. He was supposed to signal.”

“You really like running through the waste don’t you?” Bahorel elbowed Grantaire sharply and he didn’t dignify that with an answer.

“He had to pick up Bossuet.” Joly hissed and then a single, smoggy raven flapped up from the treelines.

“What the fuck,” Bahorel whispered, “does that mean?”

Combeferre didn’t reply just narrowed her eyes as Courfeyrac walked out from the gate in clear view of anyone inside the house.

“It was a sparrow for capture.” Joly whispered.

Courfeyrac crossed his arms and Bahorel stepped out from behind the building. Combeferre tried to stop him but he just walked down the road to Courfeyrac.

“What do you mean it’s empty?” Bahorel yelled a moment later and the others abandoned their cover to go to the pair of them.

Courfeyrac looked dangerously close to tears, “It’s empty. No one’s here. We were wrong.”

Combeferre took off towards the house, Courfeyrac and Bahorel following her. Bossuet turned to Joly and Grantaire, “If he’s not here, where is he?”

Grantaire shrugged helplessly and Combeferre screamed in frustration from inside the house. Joly glanced to the road, to the silent city and the empty streets and then led the two of them around back, towards the woods.

The other three joined them a moment later and they all went into the woods as a precaution. If soldiers were to return, or to arrive--it was possible they hadn’t even gotten here yet, Upper Folding was a ways away from Kingsbury, they weren’t going to sit there waiting for them. Combeferre and Joly were silent for a moment as they calculated the distance, and then they shook their heads--they should have been here by now.

“I have several questions for you Grantaire but all of them can wait because thank fuck—Bossuet.” Courfeyrac hugged her tightly, swaying back and forth. “I don’t know if I should be surprised or not?”

“Don’t be.” Combeferre sighed.

“Where’s my sister.” Grantaire demanded.

“With Feuilly and Musichetta They’re okay.” Combeferre replied at once.

“That’s what you said when Cosette went with Jehan and Montparnasse to go see the king.”

“They’re okay.” Courfeyrac said sharply and Bahorel put a hand on his shoulder.

But there was no way of knowing that. “Enjolras isn’t here. We have to go break them out.”

Combeferre nodded, “It’s the only thing we can do. We don’t know where Enjolras is so we go get Jehan, Cosette and Marius.”

“And Montparnasse.” Joly added, frowning a little.

“Montparnasse, I think, is exactly where he wants to be.” Combeferre’s words left a sick taste in Grantaire’s mouth but no one said anything about it. .

“I know who you remind me of, R” Bossuet said rather suddenly, “Madame Grantaire! Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Grantaire reminds you of Madame Grantaire?” Joly hissed.

Bossuet looked to him, surprised, “You related?”

“I don’t think so—“

“His Uncle found him alone in his mother’s house. His mother’s name is Rachel Rivard. No one knows why he demanded to be called Grantaire.”

“How do you know that?” Grantaire glared at Joly who looked almost offended that he had to ask.

“I listen to you.” He couldn’t remember telling her that but seeing as they had been staying in the same room for nearly a month now, there had probably been a night where he had spilled his secrets to her in the dark, especially if there had been alcohol involved.

“She probably knows where they’d take prisoners.” Courfeyrac said, a smudge of something under his eye. His hands were in a constant state of motion, he kept tapping on his leg or the tree next to him. “Okay. We’ll go after Cosette, Jehan and Marius, you three go talk to Madame Grantaire.”

“Absolutely not.” Bossuet said at once, “We’re not letting you go up against the king alone.”

“Courfeyrac’s right. Enjolras might not have time. Plus the others are already there.”

“Éponine is at the castle?” Grantaire hissed, stepping towards Bahorel.

Joly pulled him away, “She’s on the other side of town, come on.”

“Don’t get captured by the guard.” Bahorel called, too cheerfully, he was terrified.

“Oh, we probably will.” Bossuet assured them cheerfully, sounding calm. She linked her arms with Grantaire and Joly and led them down the empty street.

Grantaire could feel the eyes of the city upon him, peeking out from behind shutters and curtains. They kept to the side of the road, ready to slip into a doorway or around a corner. It was eerie, the silence, it felt as if something had crawled into his ears, someone was dulling his senses.

Joly stopped first and Grantaire glanced behind them, empty. The others were gone. They were going after Cosette and he was chasing after a hint of Enjolras. It should have been. He should have been going after his sister but he felt torn in two and he wasn’t comfortable admitting to himself why that was.

“I heard it too.” Bossuet whispered and then yanked them down an alley.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Boots.” they whispered in unison.

Grantaire strained to hear but couldn’t make out anything. Something creaked in the building beside them and the three were off. Bossuet led the way, peaking around every corner, hitting them when there was a flash of movement.

“We’re here.” She whispered, nodding towards a nondescript doorway across the road from them.

Someone barked an order and this time Granaire heard the boots. They were behind them? Or ahead of them?

Bossuet grabbed them and ran across the street, pounding on the door as Grantaire and Joly looked for any movement.

The marching was getting louder, any second they’d be spotted but then the door opened and from the corner of his eye, Grantaire watched Bossuet’s face light up.

The woman’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she took in the sight of him but then she saw Bossuet and her expression softened. Holding open the door, she beckoned the three of them inside and then softly shut the door. “I was worried about you, Bossuet. You just up and vanished.”

“I was captured by the king, escaped, turned into a scarecrow and wandered the wastes before R turned me back just today.”

She turned to look at him and as their eyes met, a wave of nausea washed over him. For some reason he vividly remembered hiding under Ultime’s bed, hands shaking in the light of dawn. Joly put a hand on his arm, silently asking if he was okay. He nodded, unable to look away.

Éponine had found her brother.

Cosette had found her mother.

His father’s real name was Jean Valjean. His father, who was really his uncle, who...might not even be that.

“His name is Grantaire Fauchelevent.” Joly said quietly.

Her eyes widened and she reached up to clutch the locket around her neck, “That’s not your name.”

“No, we don’t think it is.” Joly said softly and Grantaire felt his family being ripped away from him.

Madame Grantaire reached out with both hands and cupped Grantaire’s face. He stood still, afraid to even breathe. “Louis.” She whispered and her eyes filled with tears. “Louis. You’re my Louis. You’re my son.” She pulled him close to her and he awkwardly pat her on the back. After several long moments, she pulled away. “When your father was executed, I took you and your sister and ran. But, in the middle of the chaos--the executions--I lost you, I lost both of you.”

With shaking hands she unclasped the locket and then opened it to show the picture inside to Grantaire and the women. On one side was a family portrait, Madame Grantaire, much younger, a man who looked eerily similar to Grantaire and then two children with identical cheeky smiles. On the other was a portrait of just the two children and--Grantaire placed his hand under the woman’s--his mother’s--and looked at the girl closely.

Realization struck him at once and he looked up, first to his mother, then to Joly and Bossuet. “I--she--She’s the girl I remember. I don’t remember much from before--Jean--took me in but--I remember her laughing. I remember that she’s my sister and that she was laughing.”

Madame Grantaire threw her arms around him, shaking and Grantaire met Joly’s eye overtop her curls. “I think it was after I was taken in by--”

“Rachel Rivard.”

“Yeah.”

Madame Grantaire pulled away, “I never stopped looking for you. Not until...I searched the streets, I asked everyone who could spare a moment. Finally I met a shopkeeper who recognized you. She told me that you both had been taken in by Rachel Rivard. That she already had seven children but took in the both of you because you were starving on the street. Her husband had died the previous year and her brother had been arrested.”

“Ultime?” Grantaire asked, unable to withhold asking, and then corrected himself, “Jean?”

His mother just shook her head, “I don’t know. I only ever managed to get her name. Soldiers destroyed the home. The family was killed. No one knew why but there were rumours about a boy surviving.”

“Me.” Grantaire said sadly but, to both his, Bossuet and Joly’s surprise, she shook her head. Standing, she went over to a cabinet and opened a drawer, pulling out a stack of paper.

“It took me years to find him. First I thought he had just escaped, then I learned he had been taken by the soldiers. He had been taken and he had been tested on. By the time I located where they were holding him, he had escaped. But—these are the records. If this boy is your uncle’s nephew, maybe they can help.”

Grantaire looked at the papers his mother handed him and he felt Joly and Bossuet freeze as they read them over his shoulder.

Fire demon.

Skin burns anything it comes in contact with.

Amber eyes.

It all added up to one person, the only person the King had ever experimented with fire demons on:

Feuilly.

Joly gripped Grantaire’s arm so tightly it hurt, “This can’t be real.”

Grantaire looked to his mother, “I know him.”

“ _You_ know him.” Joly said to Madame Grantaire.

“Feuilly.” Bossuet said.

She recoiled, “what?”

Bossuet shrugged, “yeah. There’s so many of us that you’d never notice that he never touches anything.”

“Unless it happens to be my cold cup of tea.” Joly smiled and Bossuet laughed. His mother turned and left the room and went about making them all coffee. The others followed her into the kitchen.

“All these years he thought I was his family but really I’m the reason the guards killed them. I’m the reason Feuilly was captured, that Jehan’s blind. I’m the reason Combeferre’s can never go home.”

“Woah slow down dramatic dandelion.”

“Yeah, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Feuilly probably would have been captured regardless.”

Grantaire shook his head, “Ultime would have looked for him. I stopped him from searching for him. He might have been rescued. He might not have had to suffer so much.”

“Louis.” his mother said, gently and sternly, handing him coffee. “The past is done. There’s nothing you can do to change that.”

“I can’t just accept it.”

“Accepting it is the only thing you _can_ do. That and doing things differently moving forward. You can reunite them now”

“Speaking of reuniting. R being your son isn’t actually why we’re here.”

Madame Grantaire raised an eyebrow, “does this have to do with the death of Madame Lamarque?”

“Kind of?” Bossuet looked to the others, Joly nodded, Grantaire shrugged, “Enjolras has been captured by the guard and we need to know any and all places where they might have taken him.”

“Captured by the guard how? Why?”

Joly and Bossuet both looked to him because, yeah, he had been the only one here who had been there and he suppressed that wave of nausea away. “We were being backup for my sister and the missing prince when they went back to the king, my sister screamed, I freaked out, then the guard attacked us. Enjolras was knocked unconscious and dragged away.”

“They saw him use his magic?”

“Yeah.” Grantaire whispered, piecing the scene back together in his head.

“‘Chetta said that the guard was taking him to Lamarque’s.”

“Why would they take him all the way out here? To an old mansion that--Oh. Oh, of course.”

“Of course what?”

“The Lamarque Chateau.” she said as if it answered everything, “It’s right outside Kingsbury and she hasn’t been able to travel to it in years. The Guard must have taken it over. Or at least, know it’s deserted now that she’s gone and are holding Enjolras there.” She stood with a purpose and swept from the kitchen.

Grantaire looked to Joly and Bossuet, “Do we wait for the others?”

“Someone has to tell them if they haven’t gone after Jehan and Cosette yet. But I’m not leaving.”

“Me either.” Joly said quickly and Grantaire looked at them evenly. He wasn't going to go running across the waste again, especially not away from Enjolras.

“I’ll go.” his mother said, appearing in the kitchen rather suddenly, she dropped some papers on the table and Joly picked them up to look over.  “I have horses, I’ll go.”

“The entire city is in lockdown.” Bossuet protested. She looked exhausted, the mug of coffee in her hand her lifeline.  

“I’ll be fine, darlings.” She waved her hand and then left the room.

“Honestly, I’m a little jealous she’s your mother.” Bossuet whispered into her coffee.

Grantaire, who was still mourning the loss of the mother he grew up hearing stories about--Feuilly’s mother--he had all these stories and Feuilly had nothing--just ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, Éponine, Cosette, Feuilly and I have been reunited with lost family members, maybe you have one coming up.”

“Oh please no.” she deadpanned, “I already have seven sisters.”

“He met your mother.” Joly’s voice was conversational and Bossuet nodded like of course he did.

Grantaire glanced over to the papers Joly was still going through and swore--they looked like blueprints to some kind of headquarters. “Did you drag my mother into all of this?”

“I dragged Bossuet into it.” his mother called, “and then she introduced me to the others. Lock up when you leave!”

The front door opened and then closed and the three sat in the empty apartment.

“Bossuet,” Grantaire said slowly, “does she have a liquor cabinet?” Joly sighed but Bossuet led the way into the other room.

Grantaire grabbed the first bottle he saw and poured a shot out. “If the others are right and I’ve got some kind of magic then--for courage.” They all silently downed the shot, it was tangy and vaguely tasted like melon, and then he poured another, “for luck.” This time it tasted like honeysuckle and both Joly and Bossuet looked at him like he had just proved his magic.

Joly headed towards the door, “Let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

 

Cosette wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in the cold. Jehan was still, content to lay on the stone floor next to her, but she sat up against the back of the cell. Besides the sound of Montparnasse swearing every once in awhile and Marius trying to help him move his arms, the only thing she had heard in the past couple of hours was a muffled conversation from the doorway. But that must have been an hour ago at least by now.

Hours or days or a lifetime. Time stretched itself to impossible lengths, especially when you’re dreading what’s to come. Especially when rescue hadn’t come when it was planned, when everyone you cared about might have been dead or worse.

Something scraped against the floor at the end of the room and Cosette jumped despite herself. It was probably nothing.

But she couldn’t get the image of sorcerers being turned into monsters. Of the whispered horrors her mother told the others when she thought she was distracted.

Cosette squinted, trying to see the doorway. Someone was out there, putting a key in the lock. It made a metallic clanking sound that reverberated throughout the room.  She grabbed onto Jehan and he sat up sharply. Both of them tried to position themselves in front of the other.

Two guards entered, one of them was an officer and Cosette felt the room get colder.

“Javert?” Marius demanded, “Javert is that you?” Cosette didn’t know if it was a good thing or a terrible one that Marius recognized him.

“Hush.” The officer demanded sharply and Marius stood, scrambled to the front of his cell.

“What has my grandfather sent you to do to us?” he continued and Javert sighed heavily as he neared him.

“Your grandfather hasn’t sent me.”

Suddenly, Cosette recognized the man behind Javert.

“Papa!” She gasped so loudly everyone in the room flinched.  

“Cosette?” Marius whispered as Javert gave her papa they keys to their cell. Her papa unlocked it quickly and she threw herself into his arms.

“Where have you been! No one’s been able to find you and--”

“Hush, love, let’s get you out of here.” Tears welled up in her eyes at the sound of his voice and she held onto him even as Javert took the keys and let Marius and Montparnasse out.

“I guess convincing the king to leave me the fuck alone is out of the picture now.” Montparnasse mused.

“ _That’s_ why you wanted to come?” Jehan began to say something else but his words cut off sharply. “Let’s get out of here, the others will be killing themselves trying to get us out.”

A loud explosion nearly knocked Montparnasse off his feet.

Jehan swore and took off towards the doorway, his twisted ankle made him limp and she knew it must be painful.  Marius ran after him, panic on his face. Cosette didn’t know if he was worried about Jehan running into something or if he was worried about him running towards danger. He caught Jehan by the arm and forced him to stop, Jehan spun around anger etched on his face, “Let me go!”

“You don’t have magic, Jehan--” Cosette pulled herself away from her papa.

“ _I don’t care_ ” he swore, “they won’t be hurt because of me.”

Cosette stood perfectly still for exactly three seconds and then she grabbed her papa’s wrist and tugged him towards Jehan and Marius, “Éponine and Grantaire are with them!”

That was all her father needed to hear. He led the way out of the room. Javert swore loudly behind them but Cosette didn’t look back. She didn’t need an explanation right now as to why and how her papa and him found them; what mattered was fixing her mistakes. She wouldn’t have anyone hurt because of her.

Javert took over the front of their group when they made their well out of the dungeon and he didn’t look happy at all about it. Montparnasse caught up with Cosette and she had to do a doubletake, he had use of his arms back.

“The guard did it.” He shrugged, “he wasn’t happy about using magic but he was more upset to see what the king had done to me.”

She glanced up to Javert and then they were running. Montparnasse had hold of one of her arms, her father the other.  Marius and Jehan were dragging each other with Jehan using Marius as a sort of crutch. At first Cosette didn’t know why and then a shot rang out over their heads and she screamed.

The guard had found them.

“We have to leave!” her papa said to Javert.

“No! We have to find the others!” Jehan swung his arm out and he struck Montparnasse in the chest. “Throne room. They’re in the throne room. They’re fighting. Or they will be soon.”

It was nice that they now knew where the others would be or were currently, but it would be nicer if Jehan’s visions came with directions.  

So distracted with her thoughts, Cosette almost missed the exchange between Javert and her papa. It was only a glance, Javert asking silently if he were to lead the way to the throne room and her father saying yes.

Javert threw a shield up behind them, knocking the pursuing guard to the ground and Cosette broke out of her papa’s and Montparnasse’s hold. She raced forward--there were blasts up a head. By the time they reached the doorway, she had surpassed Javert. Rushing into the throne room, a spell came flying towards her and she ducked, her speed caused her to slide across the floor and she came to a stop at her sister’s feet. Éponine stared at her, incredulous, and next to her Combeferre just shook her head.

“I see dramatic entrances run in the family.”

Courfeyrac raced past them towards Jehan who didn’t have any kind of warning before he was being smothered.

“Your hair's a mess.” His voice was muffled and he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend tightly.

“Shut _up_. You can’t even see it.”

“I can see the future and you’re hair’s _still_ a mess then.”

Javert, Marius and Montparnasse entered the room to several cries of _traitor_ and _the prince_! And her sister’s eyes lit up when she saw their papa.

Cosette looked away from Éponine just in time to see a member of the guard aim their gun at the still distracted Courfeyrac and Jehan. Her blood went cold and she raced to shove them out of the way.

The bullet grazed her arm and the three went spiraling into the doorway. Bahorel was there at once to help her up. Neither of them gave her wound a second glance.

“They know we switched locations. They’re searching Kingsbury for the Castle.” Bahorel told Jehan who looked about ready to cry with how overwhelmed he was.

“They can’t get it.”

“Where’s Grantaire?” Cosette demanded as her papa shoved her back into Courfeyrac and Jehan, knocking the three of them around the corner.

“With Joly and Bossuet getting Enjolras back.” Bahorel said and then he looked like he decided something. “Courfeyrac--you have to--”

“If you think I’m leaving during all of this--”

“What did we tell Grantaire?” he shouted over the sound of her maman and Musichetta screaming spells together, “You have to. We have to split up.”

Courfeyrac grabbed Jehan and Cosette’s hands and then started to run down the corridor without another word.

“No wait!” Cosette protested but she didn’t slow them down. Logistically, she knew it was smart for her to go with him. She didn’t know any magic that was useful in fighting but she could be of help with a relocation spell. What they were doing with their castle wasn’t in any of the books but she could be of help. She knew the basics. Plus, with her out of the way her papa could focus on Éponine and her maman wouldn’t be distracted.

They rounded a corner and soldiers blocked their path. “Fuck.” Courfeyrac hissed and then took a sharp turn down another long hallway. Soldiers were here too and Courfeyrac all but shattered a window opening it. He pushed Cosette out for her to stand on the ledge and then she helped Jehan climb out without putting too much pressure on his ankle, he no doubt had reinjured it, the pain was clear on his face. She inched away as Courfeyrac climbed out as well.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Jehan said when he felt the wind on his face. Cosette peered over the ledge, they were a couple levels up, much too high for them to jump. There was really nowhere for them to go. Her heartbeat was the only thing she could hear and she started to get lightheaded. They were trapped.

“Do you trust me?” Courfeyrac asked as he took Jehan’s hand but Jehan had a deep frown on his face.

“Are you seriously wasting time? We have to go.” And with that Jehan took a step forward—right off the ledge.

Courfeyrac gave a cry and in a split second he grabbed Cosette and pulled her off the roof and grabbed Jehan’s hand. “Are you fucking insane?” he gasped.

“We are being followed so hurry the fuck up.”

Cosette was to terrified to even process what was happening.

They were walking midair. They hadn’t fallen, they were walking. In the air.

“Is Cosette okay?” Jehan asked quietly after a moment.

“She’s fine.” Courfeyrac said, twisting around to make sure they were out of sight of the castle. The three of them bounded through the air causing quite a commotion on the street below them. It would have been peaceful if the situation had been entirely different.

“Okay--” Courfeyrac said after a moment, “I never got ahold of the whole landing thing so you two better brace yourselves.”

“Jehan’s ankle’s twisted!” Cosette protested as they dropped from the sky, heading straight towards a door that she guessed hid the castle.

She had only a heartbeat to brace herself before they hit the ground hard. She stumbled forward and slammed into the front door.

“Did we lose them?” Jehan asked as he caught Cosette on the rebound and wrenched the door open.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean, doesn’t matter?” Jehan spun around at the top of the stairs and hit Courfeyrac in the chest. “This is our link to Kingsbury. Our friends are here, we have to chance it!

“We’re physically in Ingary—that’s physically where the castle is.”

“Yeah--on the other side of the mountains!”

“We’re going to figure something out!” he cried and Cosette had never felt more lost. Or winded.

“The others are going to kill us if we destroy the castle.”

“The guards are going to kill us if they catch us here. Plus—that can’t get control of the doorway. Even with all the shit they’re doing—they don’t have this yet. We’re still more powerful.”

“Courfeyrac’s right. We have to do this. Tell me how to help.” She said and then there was a loud banging on the door. Cosette flinched so violently, she fell into the stairs but Courfeyrac just frowned.

“Wastes door.”

“Grantaire and Joly?” Jehan asked.

Courfeyrac spun the handle and wrenched the door open.

It wasn’t Grantaire or Joly. Instead it was a middle aged woman, she was vaguely familiar. “Bossuet, Joly and Louis are headed to Lamarque’s family chateau outside Kingsbury.”  

“Bossuet, Joly and who?” Courfeyrac blurted out.

“My son.” she said curtly, “Louis Grantaire.”

Cosette made a small sound of shock and the woman’s eyes turned to her, “Are you alright, dove?’

“Grantaire’s my brother. You can’t be his mother. His mother died--”

“It’s a long story. How can I help?”

Courfeyrac pulled her inside and Cosette ran up the stairs. “Can you cross the mountains and bring the castle to Kingsbury?” she asked him.

“Holy shit. We’re going to destroy the castle.” Jehan whispered.

 

* * *

 

Getting out of Upper Folding was as easy as getting in.  Like, exactly. The three of them headed straight back to Lamarque’s. They had to get to Kingsbury and they had to get there fast.

Grantaire sighed heavily, slamming a desk drawer shut. The house was still in a way that seemed to physically cling to his skin, the air was heavy with what no longer was.

Cosette had lived here, she had been happy here. She had come to care about this woman, this stranger who he’d met only briefly.

Joly and Bossuet tore the house apart as gently as they could, they had several ideas about what they were looking for. Grantaire had none. There were no spells for speed, no way to magically fly there (well, Joly said there were but that they’d take up time Enjolras didn’t have).

Enjolras. Grantaire swallowed thickly and headed into the next room. He pushed the door open to reveal patchwork curtains, dying flowers in vases on the windowsill and on the desk, and several pictures of his family scattered around the room.

Cosette hadn’t come back to get any of her things.

Without really thinking, Grantaire went and gathered up the pictures and the doll Cosette had loved so much when she was little. On the bookshelf there was a small hardback novel Éponine had gotten her for a Christmas long past and so he grabbed it to keep the pictures safe.

“R get down here!” Bossuet called and he hurried down the stairs.

Joly raised her eyebrows at the sight of the book and doll, “That’s not going to help us.”

Grantaire ignored her and stuffed the two into Joly’s bag, she had gathered up some small potions and bandages already, “Bossuet, what did you find.”

Joly grumbled under her breath but wasted no time in shutting the bag and pulling it on. Bossuet beamed and held up two ratty pairs of shoes.

“They won’t last to the front door, let alone Kingsbury.” Grantaire deadpanned.

“They’re seven league boots.”

“There are two of them.”

“Sorry, R, but you’re going to have to carry me.”

“You’re heavier than you look.” he complained but took the proffered boots and pulled them on overtop of his own shoes. Joly made a small noise of shock as Bossuet lost her balance and vanished from view, one boot pitifully sitting in front of them.

“We’re going to all die trying to rescue him.” Grantaire told the empty air where his friend had just stood.

“Shut up--she’ll be right back.” Joly narrowed her eyes in determination when suddenly Bossuet reappeared, cursing fluently. She was several inches to the left from where she started but she just sat down, grabbed the other boot, slid herself over, lined her feet up with Grantaire’s and slipped the other boot on. Joly and Grantaire both helped her stand and she pretended to brush hair away from her face.

“Alright. Now that that’s out of the way--Joly, get on Grantaire’s back, we’ve got a friend to save.”

“Don’t drop me.” Joly said as she wrapped her arms around Grantaire’s neck and he scooted her up so that she clung comfortably to him.

“Yeah,” Bossuet agreed, “I’d hate to have to kill you before we got to Enjolras.” She looked down to their feet and then said, “toes touching the next floorboard.” They took a step and they were off.

The waste.

A farm.

A snowing mountain top that made Bossuet scream, take another step and made Grantaire and Joly chase after her.

A field of sunflowers that made Joly sneeze as Bossuet sheepishly apologized. Grantaire’s feet were cold and wet from the snow.

A town square, people screaming.

Joly directed them to turn slightly to the left and then one more step--

Grantaire and Joly were in a forest, Bossuet was gone. Joly hopped off his back, shouted at him to take the boots off and raced away. Grantaire did as he was told and then chased after her, the soggy boots in hand.

“Whoops!” Bossuet whispered cheerfully as Grantaire found them and Joly threw her arms around her neck.

“Stop scaring me.”

Bossuet kissed her and rested their foreheads together, “I’m alright. We’ll be alright.”

“We’re on our own and we all know it.”

Joly helped her girlfriend take the boots off and set them down along with Grantaire’s under a bush. Grantaire ignored the fact that they _were_ on their own. The boots had been a shortcut their friends didn’t have--not if the Guard knew where the Kingsbury door was. Even if rescuing the others went better than expected, they’d never get here in time. He had to forcibly not think about what his sisters were going through right now, what his friends were doing.

“Are you two ready?” Joly whispered, looking around. “Because I’m fairly certain the mansion should be right around--”

A scream ripped through the air and Bossuet and Joly were running before Grantaire could even _think_ about moving.

Enjolras.

The scream had been Enjolras.

He raced after his friends, his heart in his throat as they tore through the woods. Without warning, they reached the edge of the treeline and all three, without pausing, raced out into the open.

If he had been thinking in that moment, he might have thought back to the time he had called everyone idiots for going to Lamarque’s funeral just hours prior. However, Grantaire was not thinking at all in that moment and so he raced after Bossuet and Joly as the men standing guard shouted in alarm.

Joly was faster than either one of the guards, wordlessly she swept her hand out in front of her and the two men were blown from the entry way. They hit the ground hard and didn’t move again.

Grantaire followed his friends into the chateau, his heart sank at the maze of doorways that lay before them.

The building shook violently. Enjolras screamed again.

They followed Joly down as she tore down hall and then up a narrow staircase, Grantaire and Bossuet only just fit next to each other. “They’re killing him.” Joly whispered to herself as she threw open the door at the top and they came to a cavernous room.

Shots fired in their direction and Joly knocked both Grantaire and Bossuet back before he could see what was in the room.

A loud crack shot through the air and suddenly they were falling. Bossuet grabbed Grantiare’s arm as the stairs crumbled, the building lurched as if it were going to collapse and every window in the room shattered.

Joly screamed out in pain, but then twisted and caught herself. Simultaneously, he and Bossuet grabbed her arms and yanked her out of the way as rubble from the ceiling started to rain down.

The gunshots had stopped and a man chuckled, “you’re going to kill your friends for us if you don’t stop that.”

Joly gasped, clutching her leg, her face white. Her leg had twisted as she went down--it was probably broken.  She grabbed onto Bossuet who helped her stay upright, “I’m the only one with magic.”

“Enjolras does too.” Bossuet whispered and Grantaire swore as the building shifted beneath them again. He could see Enjolras up ahead, he could see how he was bleeding from his ear, the way his mouth was red.  

He was chained to the wall, slumped awkwardly. There were machines with bottles bubbling and measurements whirling, Combeferre would love to take it apart to figure out what they were doing. Too bad Grantaire was going to destroy it.

There were several other people in the room besides them, they were all in casual clothes which rang so many alarms that Grantaire couldn’t even process it. The king was doing this. The king who had his little sister, who had Jehan and Montparnasse, who Grantaire vaguely believed was untouchable. The king was doing this and he was hiding it.

“We’ll have to relocate.” the man in charge said. He didn’t look bothered by Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet in the slightest. Which might be good, but was probably mostly bad.

It was worse, actually, because as he spoke, a small group of uniformed soldiers burst through a hidden doorway. Fucking chateaus and their secret passageways. For some reason he felt like he was a child again watching strange men kick down his front door. He had been wrong, the crown was doing this right out in the open then, officially.

Grantaire glanced to Enjolras who was looking back at him with terror and something that almost made Grantaire think he had given up. But that was impossible because this was Enjolras and he never accepted anything less than getting his way.

“I’m going to do something really stupid.” Joly said before she began reciting a spell under her breath.

Bossuet swore, grabbed onto Grantaire’s arm “The door--” she hissed, diving for it. When the building partially collapsed, the door broke off it’s hinges and she hauled it up. Grantaire helped her cover Joly, not waiting to know what she was planning on doing. The guards had maybe thirty seconds to react but still they were caught completely off guard as the ceiling fell on them.

The building shook and Enjolras and Joly both cried out in pain. The door was knocked aside--a falling beam had caught it at just the right angle to knock it away rather than crush them. Someone pushed Grantaire forward the moment the worst of the damage had been done and he rushed across the room, praying Enjolras hadn’t been struck.

Enjolras, although a bit bloodier than he had been a moment ago, just pulled at the chains around him. Despite the destruction, he was still trapped. He shouted something and all Grantaire could focus on was the way his voice shook. Enjolras’ words abruptly cut off and his eyes went wide, his face pale.

“What?” Grantaire searched his eyes, “What happened? You realized something—what is it?”

Enjolras opened his mouth, then closed it, swallowing thickly.

“What?” Grantaire repeated, hyperaware of his surroundings, the sound of debris shifting, groaning from the guards.

“My magic’s gone.”

Grantaire scowled and grabbed onto one of the chains. He began tugging at it.

“What are you trying to do?”

“Get you out--what do you think I’m trying to do.”

“Grantaire please!” he shouted, pulling against the chains. “Get Bossuet, Joly and go!”

It was always going to end this way. The world was always going to fight back and really, this was all inevitable.

Well…

Fuck it.

His ears rang and he was lightheaded, he’d stop time for Enjolras if he could. He’d do anything, _everything_ , to make sure he was safe. He met his eyes and, really, there was no other choice. If the world was going to go up in fire and smoke and screams, if he was going to be faced with losing his family again, this time he was going to fight back.

He was going to save Enjolras.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked hesitantly, his voice a whisper. The room was too quiet, it was like—

Grantaire looked around, nothing moved, not a single thing. The dust hung heavy in the air. The guards were frozen in various stages of injury and shock. Bossuet leaned over Joly whose leg was a shocking shade of black and blue and bloody,  both of them completely immobile.

Oh fuck. It was the sight of Joly and Bossuet that made it sink in--he had actually stopped fucking time.

“Grantaire? What’s going on?” Enjolras sounded like he knew perfectly well what had happened but he didn’t want to believe it.

“I stopped time.”

“I—wha—“ Enjolras gaped, still tied up in the chains.

“I thought really hard about it and then…” he lifted up his arms to show the silent room. Enjolras’ eyes were wide and for once he was left absolutely speechless. Grabbing the chains, Grantaire pulled at them again, they had all the time in the world, this second would last forever which meant he’d be able to break the metal eventually. Joly and Enjolras had already done a bang up job of destroying the place, the wall he was chained to was probably already damaged.

“Burn it.” Enjolras said suddenly, “When you restart time and you’re holding onto them, they’ll burn.”

“How do you know that?” he demanded, suspicious.

“I know magic. You’ve seen our library, you’ve seen Lamarque’s. I’ve read every book. I know the theory of playing with time.”

“Yeah, we all know. You turned yourself into a toddler which was some pretty specific magic.”

“You just have to restart time and then we have to get out of here.”  His eyes were on the men and women behind Grantaire and shit this was going to be a disaster. There was no way the ceiling had knocked all of them down there were--twenty now? Twenty soldiers and the four of them, none of which were in any condition to fight back. Bossuet’s magic was unpredictable, Enjolras’ magic was gone, Joly’s leg was nearly snapped clear in half so she was probably unconscious and Grantaire had somehow managed to stop time which meant he had done magic a whopping single time in his life.

“Yeah.” he said, his voice a laugh.

“You can do it, Grantaire, I believe in you.”

He glanced up and smiled, “Me too.”

Grantaire let time move again and instantly felt like he was on fire. Enjolras gave a broken gasp next to him.

But it worked: the chains had broken.

Enjolras looked up, smirked and when Grantaire touched his wrist, he had to pull away lest he be burned.

“What the fuck--” Grantaire gasped, suddenly realizing that he had almost caught Enjolras on fire.  

“Don’t worry. I was seventeen we met Feuilly and tried to undo what the Guard had done to him. It went terribly. That’s why Jehan’s blind and can see the future. That’s why I can’t be burned.” He pushed Grantaire back and grabbed a piece of beam that had shattered, his hands shook but his grip remained tight.

“I know you can’t be burned, Feuilly carried you when you were an infant but--holy shit I could have killed you.”

“You didn’t. Move--let’s go.”

Together they picked their way over the rubble and the increasingly uneven building to Joly and Bossuet. “What did you just do?” Joly hissed.

“He stopped time like a madman and we’re all still here to tell about it.”

“Enjolras.” Bossuet said sharply nodding towards something behind them. Grantaire scoped Joly up into his arms, causing her to cry out in pain, and turned around to see several guardsmen starting to stagger to their feet.

“He doesn’t have his magic.” Grantaire hissed.

“I’ve got this.” Joly said despite her skin starting to look grey and the softness of her voice.

“No.” Bossuet said and then recited a spell that caused the air around them to glow vaguely white.

Enjolras raised his eyebrows, impressed, and Bossuet pushed him forward, towards the other door.

They descended the stairs at with Bossuet in front, just in case Enjolras lost his footing, and Grantaire and Joly took up the rear. Grantaire could see Enjolras’ hands shaking and Joly was sickeningly still in his arms. The reached the bottom and a barrage of bullets flew towards them. Bossuet and Grantaire both screamed and the bullets that didn’t rickashay away evaporated.

“Nice.” Enjolras whispered and Grantaire probably would have burst out laughing if not for the fact that it had been both Bossuet and _his_ magic that saved them. He felt it. It was a rush like when he stopped time.

A lone guard stood before them, and in his arms Joly whimpered.He looked the guard in her face, she held a gun out in front of her but they both knew his and Bossuet’s magic was stronger. “Go--go home to your family. This is just a job for you, it’s not worth your life.”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment but then lowered her weapon.

“Thank you.” Bossuet whispered, wrapping her arm around Enjolras’ waist and ushering him away. They hurried out the nearest doorway and slipped into the woods, hoping that the trees would provide enough cover for them.

“I can walk.” Joly said weakly, and Grantaire tightened his grip.

“Your leg is literally some kind of broken right now.”

“I think the boots are over--” Bossuet began and then Joly pointed to their left.

“Why are we looking for shoes?” Enjolras whispered, sneaking a glance back in the direction of the house.

“Seven league boots.” Joly and Grantaire choused and Bossuet whispered a _holy shit_ at their unison.  

“You rescued me with--” Enjolras’ words cut off sharply and Bossuet reached down into a bush to retrieve them. She and Enjolras helped Grantaire slip into a pair while holding Joly and then they pulled on a boot each.

“Oh the count of three.” Enjolras said, “One--two--” Bossuet vanished. Joly and Grantaire both cried out, Grantaire took a step and they vanished as Enjolras said “three” to thin air and then he followed after them.

Bossuet was already pulling the boots off Grantaire’s feet, the one she had been wearing was laying on the ground beside her. Joly laid on the ground and so Enjolras kicked his boot off and went over to kneel beside her.

“Grantaire--” he began, turning towards him but he was already coming over.

“No, yeah, I know. Tell me the spell and I’ll do it.”

Enjolras recited a spell twice and it took Grantaire three tries before Joly sighed and propped herself up on her elbows.

“So who has my bag? I want some of whatever we stole from your mother’s house, R.”

“You’re drinking?” Enjolras deadpanned as Bossuet fished out the bottle, still mercifully intact and passed it around the three of them. “Your leg is still broken--you just can’t feel the pain. We have to get you home.”

“Yeah. Just let us catch our breath.” She said, tilting her head back and doing a shot before passing the bottle to Grantaire and pulling Bossuet close to kiss her.

Grantaire immediately turned to Enjolras, “So I’ve been wondering this for a while. When you tried to reverse what the throne did to Feuilly...you can’t be burned, Jehan can see the future. What happened to Combeferre and Courfeyrac?”

For a moment, Enjolras wondered if he really wanted an answer or if he just wanted to give the two women a moment. Grantaire kept watching him so he said, “Combeferre…have you been in her bedroom?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“She has a window that looks—she was born in a land called France. That’s where we were originally headed when we left High Norland.  But her window looks out over her sister’s yard. She can never go back. That’s what happened to her.”

“Out of all of you she’s the one I least expected to have a tragic backstory like that.”

“Wait until you hear Courfeyrac.” Joly said, breaking away from her girlfriend.

“Courfeyrac?”

“Montparnasse cursed him to not be cursed when the rest of us were.”

“Excuse me, what does Montparnasse have to do with this?”

“Uh--” Enjolras began, “After we couldn’t help Feuilly the first time and Jehan lost his sight, we went to the Wizard of the Waste and he and Combeferre had their fling and well, it was complicated but basically the spell he used to help us shattered and cursed us and we haven’t been able to break it yet.”

“No one told me this. No one mentioned this to me at all.”

“Shh, Grantaire, we’ll have Jehan tell you the story when we’re all safe back home. He makes it much more dramatic than it probably actually was.”

“I think Grantaire breaking _his_ curse is more dramatic.”

“Excuse me?” Grantaire turned to Joly who was already looking better but was very pointedly not looking at her injured leg. She had covered it up with her skirts but she still looked no where near it.

“Your magic is back.”

“I was trying to figure out how to break it but all I know is that you bound your magic when you were little.”

Grantaire thought about how vividly he had remembered the attack that killed Rachel Rivard and her family, that killed his sister. “I think, maybe, I did it when the guard murdered my family. I think by hiding my magic they left me for dead instead of taking me like--” he left _Feuilly_ unsaid, not wanting to have to explain everything to Enjolras right then.

“So you’re really a prince?” Bossuet asked as Joly squeezed his hand.

Enjolras tensed and almost perfectly stuck his nose in the air. “I gave it up.”

“Marius hasn’t. I think my sister’s going to end up a princess.”

“I’ll speak to her.” Enjolras pat his leg like it settled it.

Suddenly, Grantaire understood everything perfectly. “Marius’ grandfather was using his disappearance as an excuse to go to war. But what if _you_...”

“Absolutely not.”

“We can go there and we can give them proof why this war is pointless. You’re the missing prince you can at least get an audience.”

“I ran away for a reason.”

“Is that reason greater than stopping this war?”

Enjolras stared at him for a long moment and he bit his lip. “Fuck.”

“That’s the spirit.”  

“I need you to do a spell to clean us up and then we’ll split up, Joly and Bossuet will take a pair of boots back to the castle and we’ll go to High Norland.”

“Not fair.” Joly complained but it was mostly for show.

 

* * *

 

Éponine opened the door to the castle to see two woman smiling guiltily at her, at first she didn’t recognize either of them but then--”Joly--” she gasped and went to her other side to help her in.

“Why do we have so many stairs?” her brother’s best friend asked through gritted teeth.

“Why does the castle look a little worse for the wear?” the other woman asked, her voice light. Éponine didn’t know who the hell this bald woman was but the way Joly clung to her assured her that she could be trusted. “And why are we so close to Kingsbury? We nearly didn’t find it.”

“Cosette, Jehan and Courfeyrac had to change some things around.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the castle out of Folding Valley. How’d they get it over the mountains?”

“According to Cosette, only just.”

Joly and the woman looked around the room--Cosette was still shouting at Marius to sit down and let Combeferre bandage his head, Gavroche was talking to a distinctly uncomfortably Javert and Jehan,  Musichetta and Fantine were mixing potions at a frightening speed. “Upstairs.” Joly’s voice was tense.

The three of them made it to the top of the stairs and were halfway to Joly’s room when someone raced up after them, breathless.

“Joly-- _Bossuet_ \--what the hell--” Feuilly gasped.

“Oh hey.” Joly said lightly and Éponine caught the other woman’s eye--so this was Bossuet. It would have been nice to meet her when her girlfriend wasn’t about to pass out in their arms. “Grab your gloves, I’m gonna need help setting my leg.”

“You broke it--” he asked and then ran back downstairs without waiting for her response.

“And then some.” Joly sighed and Éponine and Bossuet all but dragged her into her room. The put her on the loveseat ‘so she wouldn't bleed on the bed’.

And then the door was thrown open and Feuilly came in arms filled with medical equipment, which impressively included a splint--they were prepared.

“What happened?”

“Saved Enjolras.” Bossuet said glancing away from her girlfriend quickly.

“My brother?” Éponine asked just as quickly.

“Might actually be getting laid right now, if you can believe it?” Joly said, a little dazed as Feuilly and Bossuet inspected her leg.

“He’s alive?”

“Yeah.” Joly said then pushed herself up, her skin starting to look a little grey, “Can you go get Combeferre, I know she’s busy and I thought I could just instruct them but--I think it’s the muscles and--”

“I’ll send her up.” Éponine ran from the room without another word and bumped into Courfeyrac who was on his way in.

“I can help. Combeferre’s still shaking too much to be of any real help. What the fuck happened?”

Éponine raced back down the stairs and surveyed the room for where she could be most helpful. Combeferre _was_ shaking a lot and Cosette looked about ready to worry herself right into tears so she went over to them. “Hey.” she said to Combeferre gently and she stopped messing with Marius’ bandage to turn to her.

“That was Joly and Bossuet--”

“Grantaire and Enjolras?”

She glanced to her sister and the to her father who was making tea by the fire and had looked up at the mention of Grantaire, “They’re both safe is all she said.”

Combeferre sighed in relief and rested her head on Éponine’s shoulder. Éponine wrapped her arms around her gently and just sat there for a moment, letting it sink in that they were safe.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras held his hand in a vice-grip. Grantaire watched him stare down a castle for the second time--shit--for the second time _today_. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small bottle of alcohol he had stolen from Joly’s bag. He tipped it back and took a long drink from it.

Enjolras ignored him.

“Want some?” Grantaire asked, trying to ease the tension through either alcohol or humor.

Enjolras shook his head, “We just need to go in there. We can stop the war _right now._ We can save so many lives. We just have to--” he shook his head again, this time to clear his thoughts and then pulled Grantaire along as he started marching towards the castle gates.

The were met but the guard standing watch, who eyed them both suspiciously.

“We request an audience with the Queen.”

When Grantaire had first met him, he had thought his posture had been almost royal. Now, seeing him stand outside his former home, trying to become the boy he used to be, Grantaire didn’t know how he felt about being absolutely right.

“Do you have an appointment?” he asked, knowing he didn’t.

“I don’t need one. I’m her son.”

The guard’s eyes widened but he didn’t seem that surprised to see the presumed dead prince standing in front of him, “Are you?”

“Yes. Let us through.”

“What happened to the children that ran away with you.” the guard pressed on and Grantaire almost wanted to take another drink. He had no doubt Enjolras was going to talk his way back into the castle, it just might take a while if this guard wanted to be the hero and interrogate him himself.

“Excuse me?”

“The children that ran away with you. What happened to them?” he demanded again.

“I--” Enjolras faulted, something about the guard was throwing him off. The more Grantaire looked at him the more he resembled--

“Mathéo Courfeyrac. Is he alive?”

“Oh.” Enjolras and Grantaire gasped together for different reasons.

“You’re Rodrigue?” Enjolras recalled the name with frightening ease.

The guard simultaneously let out a relieved sigh and tensed up, “Stéphane. But--Camille--my brother?”

“Courf’s alive. He’s fine.”

“The Queen is going to murder you.”   Stéphane told him matter-of-factly as he turned and lead them into the castle. He didn’t dump them on anyone, he led them straight inside and into a small library.

“Good luck.” he said, heading out the way he came, “She’s in a meeting but I’m sure she’ll be in to meet you in a moment or two.”

He shut the door and Enjolras stood perfectly still, the grip on Grantaire’s hand was nearly painful. “We used to play in here when we were little. This is where I met Combeferre when her parents brought her here from France.” he shut his eyes, “I never thought I’d be here again.”

A door to their left opened and in walked a tall, thin woman with long curly blond hair. Her eyes were a bright shade of green instead of Enjolras’ blue but there was no mistaking the family resemble.

Enjolras opened his eyes and froze, “Hey, maman.”

“Oh my boy.” she ran across the room and wrapped him into a hug that Enjolras awkwardly returned with his free hand. Grantaire tried to pull his hand out of Enjolras’ grip but he only tightened it.

She looked to Grantaire and Enjolras ran his thumb over his hand which nearly made him miss her ask, “And, you are?”

“Louis Grantaire.” he answered for the first time he could remember and Enjolras didn’t even try to hide his confusion as he turned to look at him.

His mother blinked in surprise but hid it almost immediately, “Thibaut and Éléonore Grantaire's son. Your father was the Ingary ambassador. He was a good man.”

“I thought--” Enjolras began, with a glance to his mother.

“There was a development. Bossuet knows-- _someone_ and they sort of confirmed it. It’s a long story--pretty complicated.”

Enjolras, who looked wholly unable to deal with the mysteries of Grantiare’s childhood at the present moment, just turned back to his mother, “You have to stop the war with Ingary. King Gillenormand is using it as a way to gain more power. Felix Tholomyés used to work for him but switched sides because--you offered him more money.”

She blinked in surprise and then opened her mouth to respond but Enjolras cut her off.

“I will marry Ingary’s Prince if that’s what it takes to return peace to the people.”

Damn, he was really going to keep his promise that Cosette wouldn’t marry into royalty. Nice of him to take one for the team seeing as he was already royal.

“Enjolras, we don’t have to do that. If what you’re telling me is true then there’s no reason to keep this senseless fighting up. Plus--”

“You’ll send terms of peace over?”

“Yes. But, Enjolras--we’ve only just got word--King Gillenormand is dead.”

“What?” Grantaire gasped--Marius’ grandfather--who Cosette had gone to see. Cosette had been there with him--she had been in prison, the others were going to break them out.

“What happened?” he said and this time Enjolras squeezed his hand to comfort him.

“I don’t know the details, but what you’ve come here to tell me only solidifies plans my council and I were discussing moments ago.”

“Get back to it then--” he gasped, “We’ve only come to tell you this and to try to broker peace. We have to get back.”

His mother blinked in surprise, “To Ingary? You only just got here, stay and rest here tonight, at least.”

“Maman,” the word sounded weird coming from Enjolras, and given the look on his face, it felt weird to say it as well, “We’ll be back home before nightfall.”

The queen wrapped her arms around him in a hug and still he didn’t let go of Grantaire’s hand. He was starting to think that maybe he’d forgotten how. “You’re not vanishing from my life again, are you?”

“I can’t be the prince.”

“But will you be my son?”

“Of course. Courf’s brother knows he’s alive so it’s only a matter of time, really.”

“We’re looking for a new location for a magic shop.” Grantaire said and Enjolras laughed. He then laughed harder at his offended expression,  “What? Some of us have to work for a living.”

The Queen smiled kindly down at him, “Take care of my son.”

“Always.”

“Let’s get back to your sisters.” Enjolras said with red cheeks, pulling him away.

“Do you think they’re going to give you the talk as well.” Grantaire asked, forcing himself to believe that Cosette was alright, that the king hadn’t taken their family down with him.

“Are you drunk?” Enjolras hissed the moment they were out of earshot of his mother.

“Two shots for luck and bravery.” Grantaire whispered back causing Enjolras to narrow his eyes, “Plus you know, the couple more shots for protection on the way over here. Why are we leaving so soon.”

“To make sure the others are alright, plus knowing the de Courfeyracs, they’re probably massing together to get Courfeyrac back. It was for their safety that we cut ties when we did. If the find us, we’re never leaving High Norland alone and Courfeyrac would kill us both if we put his family in danger.”

“Let’s get going then, your highness.”

Grantaire was still laughing over the outraged look on Enjolras’ face when they pulled on a seven league boot each and set off for home.  

 

* * *

 

“What the hell happened?” Enjolras demanded as he threw the castle door open, dragging Grantaire up the steps behind him. The castle was holding its breath and when they reached the top of the stairs, he had to do a double take. The castle looked a little worse for wear, there was dust everywhere and the room had a new, oddly Cosette, touch.

In addition to the dust, the room was packed with people and all of them started talking at once.

Bossuet and Joly ran at Grantaire, tackling him in a hug. He held them tightly for a moment and then pulled away. Enjolras immediately took his hand again and both women looked like they had several things to say about that but kept silent. Joly had her leg in a brace and Bossuet kept her arm around her waist.

“You okay?”

“She’s okay enough to run across the room to see you but not to help anyone.” Musichetta called. She was sitting on the bottom step with his mother.

Joly stuck her tongue out at her and then got pulled out of the way as Éponine came storming at him.

“Grantaire I swear if you don’t stop running off without backup I’ll strangle you myself!” Éponine swore.

“Oh hey.” he said because apparently he was still unable to form intelligent thoughts with Enjolras’ hand in his.

Éponine breathed in sharply, her eyes wide and she swelled with anger. Combeferre put her hand on her shoulder--Grantaire hadn’t even seen where either of them came from the room was so crowded--and she just deflated so that when she threw her arms around Grantaire, it was mostly a sob. Combeferre pulled Enjolras into a hug as well but he still didn't let go of his hand.

Combeferre kissed his cheek and pulled away. After a moment Éponine stepped back with her. Grantaire raised an eyebrow at the pair of them but they both expertly ignored it.

“What happened?” Enjolras asked again, his voice was more hesitant this time given the weird air in the room.

Montparnasse shrugged and Grantaire found where he was perched on the edge of the fireplace,  “I got my revenge.”

His confession of regicide was so nonchalant that Grantaire immediately searched out Marius. He was pale and holding Cosette’s hand tightly but he didn’t look like he was sitting in the same room as his grandfather’s murderer.

“It’s complicated.” Combeferre explained gently and how rude would it be to say she was his favorite right now. “He didn’t get his revenge outright. There was an accident and…”

“The king’s now sitting in our living room?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras squeezed his hand for reasons unknown to him.

Marius shook his head, “My aunt’s queen.”

“I need you to take me to her.” Enjolras said and Grantaire could feel him ignoring everyone else in the room. “That is, if you won’t get thrown into the dungeon again. Being tortured agains isn’t high on my list of things to do.”

“He overreacted.” Cosette said immediately and Grantaire almost didn’t want to know why she was defending him.

“What do you mean--tortured again.” Courfeyrac demanded, his voice level but wavering.

“I’m okay.” he promised, “I’m okay. Grantaire found me and got me out.”

“I have magic.” he announced, because there was a lot of information going around at the current moment so why not.

Combeferre cocked her head to the side and had the audacity to smirk.

“Grantaire stopped time and then restarted it so that my chains burnt off. The only reason I’m not dead is because I’m immune to fire.”

Combeferre’s smirk faded, someone whistled and Courfeyrac roughly sat down. Jehan wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Why do you have to see the Queen?”

“I have to convince her to accept High Norland’s terms of peace.”

Courfeyrac shot to his feet again, causing Jehan to be thrown backwards into Bahorel, who caught him. “You went home?”

“It’s the only way to end this.”

“Goddamn, Grantaire. You’ve cursed us all with a reunion with our mothers.”

“I sincerely hope not,” Éponine said as Bahorel shrugged, “I’m overdue for a visit anyway.”

Bossuet gasped, “She doesn’t know I’m okay!”

“See what you did?” Courfeyrac hissed.

“You don’t have to convince her.” Marius said slowly, “My cousin was killed in the fighting. My aunt want this war to stop as much as us.” Enjolras sighed in relief but still looked a little put out that he couldn’t storm into a castle for a third time today, surely it would have been some kind of record?

Grantaire looked over and realized with a sharp stabbing pain that--Jean and Feuilly were sitting next to each other. “Fuck.” he gasped so loudly, the entire room quieted and looked at him. “Dad--” he began but then broke off.

“Oh shit.” Éponine whispered, knowing that whenever he called him that it was Not Good.

Bahorel put a hand in the air, “Hold up--he’s actually your uncle right--but he’s your adoptive father.”

Grantaire laughed and immediately he knew he sounded unhinged, “It’s about to get so much weirder.”

“Um--” Bahorel gasped, looking around the room as if for a cue as to how to take that statement.

“I met my mother.”

“Oh, honey--” Cosette gasped, jumped up from Marius’ side and immediately wrapped her arms around him.

“Oh--no. I don’t mean in a near death experience kind of way I mean--” he waved his free arm to indicate where Éléonore Grantaire was sitting with Bossuet and Musichetta. “Bossuet introduce me to Éléonore Grantaire when we were recruiting her for this whole crazy _thing_.”

“I never knew your last name.” Combeferre confessed to her suddenly and got a warm smile in return.

“Éléonore Grantaire?” Jean asked sharply and the woman nodded sadly.

“My husband was executed and I fled with our children, a son and a daughter. We were separated but…” she stood and went over to show him the locket which he took gingerly. Cosette’s grip on him tightened when they watched their father’s eyes fill with tears and he covered his mouth.

“This is you.”

Cosette and Éponine both immediately ran over to look at the locket. Cosette started crying almost at once but Éponine just took a step back to give them room.

“Your sister took him in.” Éléonore said softly.

Grantaire couldn’t bare to watch his uncle learn that he wasn’t his nephew and so he began talking at once, “After the fighting stopped, she came looking for us. She followed our trail to the house. She found out that--and this is where it really gets fucking insane--she found out that one of the boys survived.”

“Uh, yeah.” Courfeyrac said, wholly unable to stop himself, “You did. We all know this.”

Grantaire shook his head and Bossuet pulled out folded paper, she must have smuggled it back with her. Jean unfolded it carefully, holding it out so that everyone around him could read it.

“Hold the hell up.” Bahorel said and next to him, Jehan laughed, “if you’re about to pull one of us into your convoluted family tree I swear to--”

A glass was knocked to the ground as Feuilly stood swiftly.

“Holy fuck.” Bahorel gasped and he grabbed onto Jehan’s hand. Jehan’s eyebrows raised sharply at whatever vision he had just received but he kept quiet.

“Are you sure?” Feuilly’s voice shook.

“He got Feuilly?” Jehan whispered loudly to Bahorel.

“He went right for the best of us.”

After the initial chatter had calmed down and everyone became more familiar with Grantaire’s family than he was at the moment, he slid next to Feuilly. “I’m sorry I stole your family.”

Feuilly looked like he wanted to hit him but then shrugged it off, “As it turns out, it was one and the same all along. We both just took different paths to get to it. I can’t believe we met before.”

“According to my mother’s calculations, we knew each other for several months.”

“I’m glad I got up and saved you from the guard.”

“Me too.” Grantaire smiled.

“So, you and Enjolras.”

Grantaire turned and glared at Combeferre, “So you and my sister.”

Before Combeferre could say _I don’t know what you mean_ , Enjolras swooped over and grabbed Grantaire’s hands, “I need to talk to you.”

He looked down to their joined hands and then back up to Enjolras, “about what?”

“About what my mother said, about what I’ve been trying to say for a while now.”

Grantaire was perfectly aware they were still standing in the same room as everyone, but honestly, right now he didn’t give a fuck, “Which is?”

Enjolras smiled and Grantaire echoed it and found himself completely unable to stop, the others were still talking around them, Bahorel in particular said “Holy shit look at them” quite loudly but neither of them was willing to break eye contact.

“I think we should live happily ever after.” Enjolras blurted out, blushing and Grantaire laughed, of all the things he thought he was going to say, that was probably least of them.

But he couldn’t help it, he leaned forward and kissed him. Enjolras wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer and, fuck everyone else he was perfectly content. His family was alive, they were all safe and under the same roof again (at least for this moment), the war was over, his friends weren’t going to be rushing off into danger in the immediate future (at least, not because of war).

Someone catcalled and he could hear Cosette laughing and Courfeyrac shouted “Hey!” loudly enough that they broke apart. “Can you two stop making out for just a second,” Courfeyrac leaned back in his seat, a pointed frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Enjolras asked, amused, his arms still around Grantaire.

“He wants a dog.” Jehan sighed.

“A real one this time. Not Marius.”

“Oh my god.” Enjolras whispered and rested his forehead against Grantaire’s.

From the other room, Joly shouted, “Yeah well I want a doorway that leads to High Norland so I can get some of their cheeses whenever I want and I don’t see that happening any time soon with all of you being on the run.”

Courfeyrac narrowed his eyes at her knowing it was her way of telling them to stop running from their past, but turned to Enjolras, “If Joly gets her doorway can we get a dog?”

“Yes!” Joly cried and Grantaire kissed Enjolras again just because he could.

They were due for an ever after after all they had gone through. Their friends and family were a bit too much for a fairytale happily ever after, after all there was a small army of de Courfeyrac’s now searching for them and Combeferre and Jehan were still cursed, but an ever after would be enough for him.


End file.
